What's In A Name?

THE STORY OF I BEQUEATH THEE

Behind every name, that is if it's a good name, there is a story.

It occurred to me that there may be some who would think
"I Bequeath Thee" a rather strange name for a jewelry business.
So perhaps it would be good to give a short story about where it came from, or at least what inspired it.

Although when I think on it, it probably isn't possible to give a short explanation. The phrase itself seems to be a reflection of so many aspects of my life; in fact, it comes fairly close to being a short summary of my life!

If I had to give credit to just one person, then it would have to be my sister, Rebecca, who is two years older than I.

As I was growing up, my sister was always a heroine figure to me, and definitely larger-than-life! Of course, it isn't at all unusual for a younger sibling to feel this way about the elder, especially when you are of the same gender.

But my mesmerization with my sister's antics continued well into my adulthood. Throughout most of my life, I found myself relating stories about things she had said or done, to friends, sometimes even strangers.
It always seemed as if I was talking about a celebrity, or someone who existed just outside the realm of what is down-to-earth and real.
And the reactions that my little anecdotal tales brought forth from my audience, whoever they may happen to be, only confirmed these feelings in me: that my sister was truly above and beyond any mere mortal being.

Her Supernatural Appeal, spurred onward by my repetition of childhood memories, grew ever-greater in my own heart and mind.
And eventually, in the imaginations of my own two sons.
In them, I found the perfect audience, and as I related my oft-told stories of "Aunt Rebecca", I could see in their gleaming young eyes the same rapture and delight that I myself had experienced when, as a child, I had enjoyed that singular privilege of having my own personal entertainer.
It was clear a new generation of die-hard fans had been won!

Being the two girls followed by four younger brothers, Rebecca and I became a natural pairing. From early on, it was apparent that we both would fulfill well-defined roles: I was the unkempt Tomboy, and Becky - as we still called her then - the flamboyant popularity Queen. I was shy and insecure, while she was witty and outspoken.
Being too dull to come up with any real excitement on my own, I happily went along with all of her ideas for amusement, whether or not I held any personal interest in them.
If my sister was involved in the event, it went without saying that, sooner or later, it would become interesting.

By our teen years I had become fairly comfortable with my penchant for drab olive green everything, and nights spent at home.
I was also quite comfortable with my sister's continued popularity among our peers, her natural leadership ability, which brought her success or recognition in almost everything she did, her drippingly feminine taste in clothing and accessories, and her insistance that she be called "Rebecca" now, rather than Becky.
She trained the whole family to do this by simply ignoring us if we called her anything else.

By this time, we had also become mutually fascinated by all things Medieval, and as soon as Rebecca had the coveted Driver's License in her hand, we were off to every Renaissance Fair we could find within reasonable driving distance.

We had both devoured the Lord of the Rings Trilogy at least several times over between the two of us, and imagined ourselves to be Elven Princesses.
I still drifted toward army-fatigue shades, but my apparel choices were beginning to show the first flickers of my actually being female.
And we were beginning to intertwine phrases like "if it so please thee, wilt thou pass me the salt" into our rather droll lives.

This amused my parents, but probably didn't surprise them. The King James English didn't really sound so outlandish in our family's "church" culture.

And that, of course, comes into play as well. Although we are of Hispanic descent, my siblings and I would probably state our heritage as "Church Brats" first, and then Hispanic!
And it seemed the "Authorized Version", or, King James, was the translation of choice at almost all of the many churches we attended over the years.

So the language of "thees" and "thous" was not so foreign to any of us, and came in quite useful the first time I encountered Shakespeare as required reading. Unlike most of my friends, I could actually understand the stuff!

Meanwhile, with a family of eight, the traditional arrangement of a stay-at-home-Mom and the difficult reality of a self-employed Bread-winner, our lives were financially-challenged to say the least.
Our loving parents taught us by their example not only to take it in stride, but even to thrive in our often bleak circumstances.
We learned to give, even when it seemed there was nothing to give.
They taught us how to unearth those treasures that others might not notice, and we learned that there are gifts that money cannot buy. Whether it be the gift of kind words spoken, or some nearly used-up but desperately useful item that one of us had outgrown our need for,
and could pass on to another sibling.

And that is where the name comes from...well, I'm almost there!

It was my sister Rebecca, ever the romantic, who began it.
One day she handed me some article of clothing, I can't even remember now what it was, but how she endowed it with all the splendor of a bejeweled tiara when she eloquently murmured, "I bequeath thee my..."
-whatever it was that she gave me.
And oh, believe me, when your in such a position as to have so little, a hand-me-down blouse that you have long coveted is no small thing!
But only my sister, with her bigger-than-life style, could have imbued so much grandeur into so humble a gift.

Now all these years later, it seemed quite fitting to me that I should take her words and make them my own constant reminder of all the treasures that have been given to me by my family, each and every one of them.

As I fashion each piece of jewelry, pondering the sparkle and shine of crystals spread out on my table, or feeling the warmth of the stone beads I am stringing, it seems to me that each piece I create is a reflection of some memory.
Each little creation is something happy, something warm and loving, some small gift that is beautiful because of the giver...
It is the sound of four little brothers' squealing laughter - how I love to hear the same sound coming from my own boys now! - or of my mother's beautiful voice singing over the sound of clinking dishes, with her hands in a sink full of dishwater. That is a lovely memory, indeed!

Each piece I make, it seems, is an attempt to recreate something beautiful, because my life has been filled with beauty; and I have learned that beauty, whatever form it takes, brings near to one's heart comfort and joy and God.

I am thankful to all the family and friends who have brought beauty into my life.
I am thankful to God for blessing me with an eye to behold beauty everywhere.
And if, in any way, I have added a bit of beauty to the world, or someone's life, then I am thankful for the privilege of being able to do so!

And that is the story behind the name

...I Bequeath Thee