WHAT'S IN A NAME? ISABEL -- PAUL -- MARC -- JO-EL

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This is number 1 in a series of, as yet, undetermined length.  Since I have given it the definition, "series", you know that there will be a least one more after this one.  So, now that the shenanigans are out of the way, let's get serious, shall we?
Have you noticed that there is only one truly western name up there?  I mean, talk about one-ness!  Is it swell to be unique, or is it overwhelming?  Well, the guy after whom I am named was the only western guy in that bunch too, but he did all right.  I know for a fact that it was my father who won the discussion about what to name me. He knew what he wanted and he got it. As I have grown and progressed in age and in intellectual and emotional information, I have come to appreciate the value that my name has created for me.  I am so acutely aware of it, that when I meet people who have no idea what their name means I actually get a strange feeling inside of myself. I also generally get a feeling of gratitude for the parents who, when they gave me a name, filled me with a treasure that could help me become a good ME for myself and a good HE for those who have to deal with me.
Isabel is also very happy and comfortable with her name.  As the eldest child in her family, her name has served her well.  Going through life as "God's vow" or "God's promise", depending on how strong a word you want to put on it, is certainly a demanding personal challenge.  Isabel lives it every day, to God's greater glory.
The names we gave our sons caused us some internal soul searching.  Our first one, Eugene Enrique Marinay Dion was nameless for the first three plus days of his out-of-the-womb existence.  We hope he enjoyed the royal sound of the original moniker while in the womb.  He became Marc (with a "c", said she) and he has mentioned that the challenge it presents is certainly quite engaging.  We really don't know if he ever thinks about what his life would have been being Eugene Enrique Marinay.
Our second, Hannah, was quite an adventure in the womb.  Oh, we took care of her with all the love we could bring to bear even as Mom reported to work every day while carrying Marc in a large bread basket.  It was easy for Mom to name the new child Jo-El (don't forget the "-") when he took his first few breaths.  He was destined to be a friend of God.  He carries the name of God coming and going.  He cannot shake God out of his life.  Every now and then he gets a reaffirmation of the deep meaning of his name when a Jewish person hears it or sees it and comments on it.  It is a good thing that computers have improved.  Early on, computers would not accept the hyphen as a valid character in the name field.  Talking about characters, imagine him as "Hannah."  
The boys are two very different persons.  The one thing that they have in common is that they both were mis-named in the womb.  They never let us forget it.  In fact, it is an inside joke that crops up now and then when we call Jo-El "Hannah."  He just shrugs.
I am a huge advocate for naming children with a built-in challenge.