My Name

Grace is known as the blessings and representation of our Lords overflowing love for us, and Elizabeth means oath to God. I know it doesn't really roll off the tongue but my name does have a great meaning and it is a great representation of what me and my family believe in. Even though my parents said they meant to name me that, I don't think they truly had my name planned out. They say that Elizabeth comes from my dad’s Grandmother and Grace comes from my mom’s Grandmother, but here’s the part I never seem to understand: My first name is Elizabeth even though they knew they never really wanted to call me that. My middle name is Grace even though they had intended to call me Gracie.

Honestly I don't think my family has ever had normal names. In fact, if you look into my family you will see a trend. By brother, William Bo Faver goes by Bo. My dad, William Lloyd Faver goes by Lloyd. My granddad, William Paul Faver goes by Paul. I mean, yeah Elizabeth Grace Faver is a whole lot of letters and is definitely a mouthful, but at least i'm not a William the third.

It’s hard for some to understand, but it’s like getting a dog and naming it Spike but always calling it Max. I even remember myself being that poor little dog, coming home from school one day completely confused because someone had called me Elizabeth. I mean just make it a little easier on five year old me and at least change my name to Grace Elizabeth. I mean, you try explaining that to every single one of your teachers at the beginning of the year. Trust me it happens so much I practically have a script by now.

Yes, my name can be a burden at times, but my name is who I am, what I came from, and if you really look into it what me and my family believe in. My name is Elizabeth Grace Faver and I am glad that it is.

Late

Every night, chained to the schedule, suffocating in the requirements. My parents don't put any pressure on me whatsoever, oddly I do this to myself. This started with a boring morning “before-school” routine and a boring “After-school” routine. Over and over and over and over, but the overs and overs consumed my thoughts. First the routine, then the schedule. I watched time pass as I went through my daily tasks and I developed a belief that if I didn't have something done on time that I was late.

The thing that made my anxiety escalate is my late is not the same as your late. Yours may be 30 minutes behind schedule, but mine is a whole different topic. My late is usually getting my hair and makeup done at 6:17 but instead finishing at 6:19.(Yes I know it’s specific) Late could be a mere 2 minutes that I could easily make up for. But my late isn't your late.

Late bothered me in ways it didn't bother other people. Late bothered me more than it should. Late made me freak out. Late made me feel small. Late made me feel like I couldn’t move or breathe. Late leaves me panicked, and unsure of what to do. Late makes me feel chained to a schedule, and causes me to suffocate in the requirements.I know it’s hard to understand unless you have actually experienced it, but it’s okay if you don't. I understand… Your late isn’t my late.

Broken

You hear it all the time “You never know how much you love someone until you lose them” You take the people you love for granted, and you take the word “I love you” for granted. Loss happens to everybody, it has to.

I remember the day I lost a close family member, actually I remember every second of that day. That day changed my life and who I was. How I thought about my possessions and definitely who I have around me. I was mad at my situation and how my life wasn't going to be the same after that day. I was mad that this circumstance was made a reality for me. I was confused because I had done so many good things in the past and I could have made a list of reasons why I didn't deserve this change, but my anger was like a wall that I felt like I couldn't get past.

The next few months I was tested mentally, emotionally, and physically. I had to deal with my problems in different ways and share my house with someone I had never spent over a week at a time with. This was all like a STAAR test, minus the weeks of studying and all of the classwork leading up to it. This was like a pop STAAR test, you would protest and say how it’s not right, or fair, but no matter what, you were going to have to walk into that classroom, sit down, and face what you were dealt with. At least a STAAR test is over in 4 hours.

Although this seemed like the end of my world at the time that whole experience shaped me into a person who is always thankful for for the people I have around me, no matter how mad I may be at them at the moment. I also became stronger in my faith during all of this and I learned how important perseverance was in the hardest of times. Yes, I was broken, but I was not shattered, and I didn’t know it at the time but I was going to be rebuilt better and stronger than before.

Reflection

My vignettes are all descriptions of important things that i have to deal with/ that come up on a day-to-day basis. Some I had really struggled with for a long time and the way I solved the problem had affected my outlook on the situation or the way I solve other problems in my life. They shaped my identity because these things are what make me who I am.

In the book House On Mango Street Esperanza deals with many things I would never have to worry about because I am fortunate enough to have a nice home and live in a safe neighborhood. But if you put aside the physical differences between Esperanza and I we have both gone through troubles about finding your true self. Every kid has trouble with friends and knowing who to hang out with and who to not hang out with, and what you believe in and how you choose to deal with your problems. All of these things happen when you are “Growing up” or “Coming of Age”.

The House On Mango Street was different from any other book that I have read in the past, because most books I read have a very distinctive plot and a clear antagonist and because of how the stories seemed scattered it made it harder to differentiate those components. I liked how easy the book was to pick up because is was split into small chapters but It also did not interest me as much as a normal book would.