As a candle maker, we have written many first names on our candles over the years.
Famous names, rare names, old family names, modern names, and sometimes completely extraordinary combinations.
And yet, it never becomes ordinary for us.
Because behind every first name is a child. A new path in life. A family that has thought about which name might suit this little person and what they might want to give them for their life.
Perhaps we sometimes choose a first name today just as we choose many other things.
It should sound beautiful. Match the last name. Not be too common, but also not too unusual. Perhaps it should work internationally and be easy to pronounce.
These are all understandable thoughts.
And yet, another question is worth asking:
What do we actually give a person when we give them their name?
Because a name is one of the first words with which a child is repeatedly addressed personally.
Even before they can say, "That's me," others hear their name and associate it with this person.
"There's Emma."
"That's Noah."
"Come to me, Frieda."
"Sleep well, Felix."
In this way, their own name grows together with the feeling of belonging and identity.
Psychological research actually deals with this special relationship between names, self, and social perception. However, this does not mean that a first name determines a person's character or later fate. A name is not a preprogrammed life script.
And perhaps this distinction is precisely what is important.
A name does not determine who a person becomes. But it accompanies them in discovering who they are.
What message do we convey with a name?
Some parents choose a name based on its meaning.
Peace.
Courage.
Wisdom.
Light.
Hope.
Happiness.
Strength.
Love.
Then the choice of name almost becomes a first wish for this new life.
Not in the sense of:
You must become this.
But rather:
May something of this accompany you on your path.
That is a big difference.
Because perhaps a child who bears a name meaning "strong" does not have to be strong their whole life.
Perhaps our message can instead say:
May you find your own strength – and at the same time know that you are also allowed to be weak.
A name associated with peace does not always have to produce a perfectly balanced person.
But perhaps it can remind us of a wish:
May you find peace within yourself and also be able to give it to others.
Seen this way, the meaning of a name does not become a task that a child must fulfill.
It becomes a good wish.
From a spiritual perspective: The sound with which we are called
Whoever looks at the world spiritually may perceive a name differently.
A name has a sound.
Rhythm.
A certain softness or clarity.
Some names sound powerful, others quiet, warm, or light.
Spiritually, a name can therefore be understood as a kind of intention – as words that are repeatedly given to a person.
Whether one speaks of energy, vibration, blessing, or simply meaning in this regard is left to each person.
Scientifically, this cannot be used to conclude that a certain sound determines a person's essence.
But something else is very real:
Our name is repeatedly spoken by the people who are in a relationship with us.
Lovingly.
Sternly.
Tenderly.
Proudly.
Impatiently.
Comfortingly.
Cheerfully.
And perhaps the deepest impression does not arise from the meaning of a name at all.
But from how our name is pronounced and what experiences become associated with it over the course of our lives.
And what happens when we shorten a name?
This is a thought that is surprisingly rarely discussed when choosing a name.
Parents may choose the name Charlotte with full conviction.
But just a few weeks later, everyone calls the child only Lotti.
Elisabeth becomes Lilli.
Maximilian becomes Maxi.
Theodor becomes Theo.
Magdalena becomes Magda, Leni, or Lena.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Nicknames and short forms can express an incredible amount of closeness.
But they do change the perception of a name.
Charlotte sounds different from Lotti.
Theodor different from Theo.
Elisabeth different from Elli.
Not better or worse.
Different.
A short form can make a name seem softer, more familiar, more playful, or more childlike. A full form, on the other hand, can be perceived as more formal, more adult, or more powerful.
That is why I find one little question beautiful when choosing a name:
Do I only love the full name – or do I also like the names that will probably arise from it in everyday life?
And later, of course, the person themselves should be allowed to decide:
Am I Charlotte?
Lotti?
Charlie?
Or do I not want a short form at all?
There is something very valuable in that too:
Giving someone a name does not mean prescribing forever how they must be called.
Perhaps the most beautiful name is a wish for a good life
In the past, and in many cultures, names often had an even more visible connection to origin, family, religion, nature, or community.
In various indigenous cultures of North America, naming also holds a special meaning – although there is explicitly not one indigenous naming tradition.
In some communities, names are given as part of ceremonies. They can be associated with family, ancestors, community, spirituality, or certain stages of life. From individual oral traditions, it is also known that a person could receive more than one name over the course of their life.
For example, the Lummi describe how traditional names connect people with family, ancestors, culture, and spiritual belonging. Reports on Diné traditions describe ceremonies at different stages of life.
We should not copy or romanticize such traditions.
But we can be touched by the attitude behind them:
A name can be more than something that simply sounds beautiful.
Perhaps it can tell a story.
Perhaps create a connection.
Perhaps express a wish.
Perhaps it can say:
May you find your place in this world.
May you meet people with whom you can be yourself.
May you be brave enough to walk your own path.
May you love and be loved.
May you remember your roots and yet spread your own wings.
Those would be names for a good life for me.
When a child bears their grandmother's name
And sometimes the story of a name begins long before a child is born.
Perhaps the grandmother was named Frieda.
A woman who was always there.
Who baked a certain cake.
Who had a special laugh.
Who endured difficult times.
Who gave warmth, told stories, or perhaps led an extraordinary life herself.
And years later, a little girl receives the middle name Frieda.
Suddenly, this one name connects the past and the future.
Of course, the grandmother does not simply live on in this child.
And the child should also never be given the task of replacing someone else.
They are their own person with their own life.
But the name can be a bridge.
It can say:
Before you were people.
They loved, hoped, made mistakes, fought, laughed, and lived.
And we are giving you a little piece of this family history.
A middle name is particularly beautiful for this.
A child can bear their own unique calling name while also carrying the name of a person who belongs to the family history.
An inherited name can be both a gift and an expectation
There are two sides to this as well.
A family name can create a deep connection.
It can preserve a memory.
It can offer comfort.
It can make a child curious later on:
Who was the woman whose name I bear?
Perhaps old photos are brought out.
Stories are told.
Letters are read.
And suddenly, family history comes alive.
But an inherited name should not be an obligation.
"You are named after your grandmother, so you must..."
That is exactly where the gift would become a burden.
Perhaps that is why the most beautiful attitude is:
We are giving you this name because this person meant something special to us. But you are free to make your own story from it.
I find that incredibly beautiful.
Imagine this baptismal candle in thirty years
Perhaps one candle will say:
Mila Elisabeth
Mila is the name her parents chose only for her.
Elisabeth was her grandmother's name.
Next to it is her birth date.
Perhaps a tree of life.
A little light.
A blossom.
Or a symbol that belongs to her family.
On the day of her baptism, Mila is still a little child and does not yet understand any of this.
But perhaps she will hold this candle herself thirty years later.
Then someone can tell her:
"Elisabeth was your grandmother. That is why this name is there."
And suddenly, this candle no longer carries only a name and a date.
It carries history.
Origin.
Memory.
And at the same time, the beginning of a completely new path in life.
Perhaps that is why we do not design candles with names
Perhaps we are actually designing something else.
We are giving a name a visible place in a special moment.
On a baptismal candle.
A birth candle.
A candle of life.
And that is exactly why we are not only interested in how many letters a name has or whether it is currently modern.
We are also interested in the story behind it.
Why did you choose this name?
What does it mean to you?
Does the child bear the name of a loved person?
Is there a special wish you associate with this name?
Perhaps that is exactly where the idea for the colors, symbols, and design of the candle can come from.
Because a truly personal candle does not only have to say:
This child's name is this.
It can tell so much more:
You were expected.
You were welcomed.
Thought was given to your name.
And now your own story begins with this name.
A name is given as a gift. Life writes its story. And sometimes, a light may accompany it from the very beginning.
Your candle makers from the candle workshop
Grundfarm Wachskunst in Weidenberg
