This is an article I wrote in 1988.
Our youngest daughter loves to sing. Not softly, but in a strong, clear warble that carries down escalators, across lobbies and along aisles of supermarkets. She is a blonde, petite four year old who is far from shy. Many are fascinated by this tiny tot belting out several verses of "Go Tell It On the Mountain" while perched in a speeding shopping cart pushed by an embarrassed mother. Inevitably, someone stops us and comments, "She knows all the words and is right on key!" Then they usually pat her on the head and say, "That's very nice, little girl, what's your name?"
She smiles and replies, "Tacy."
"Tracy, that's a pretty name" they reply.
"Tacy," she repeats.
"Stacey?" they question.
"No, Tacy," she begins to get louder.
"Oh,... Casey??" they begin to look puzzled.
"TACY!!! "she shouts. "Tacy Jane Williams..T..A..C..Y," she spells.
Yes, it is an unusual name, but we feel it suits our special, little girl. Once in a while there is a glimmer of recognition from someone who's familiar with the Betsy and Tacy series of children's books, written by Maud Lovelace and set in Deep Valley, Minnesota. Yet, it wasn't just because they are favorites of mine that we chose her name.
My husband, Henry and I are always glad to offer another explanation. The middle name is easy to understand since it comes from her paternal grandmother and her aunt. Tacy is a nickname for Anastasia, which reminds us of another special person.
Sister Anastasia was a Catholic nun who was admitted to one of Vanderbilt's teaching hospitals with a heart attack several years ago. At that time, Henry, a now a practicing internist, was a lowly intern assigned to a cardiology rotation. He became her "in house" doctor. He saw her daily until she recovered and returned to the Mother House of her convent. She soon returned to her job as a music teacher at a parochial school nearby.
That was a tough year for us. We struggled to balance our schedules. I was teaching and Henry moved from one specialty to another. The grueling requirement of his internship had him on call for thirty six hours, then off only twelve. It gave us no quality time to nurture our relationship as newlyweds.
Spring arrived, discouragement set in, pressures seemed insurmountable! As energy faded, stress seemed to win the battle and a crisis resulted. Every door seemed closed. Calling a halt to a medical career seemed to loom over us as the only answer.
We turned to friends in a medical Bible study that we attended and asked for their prayers. Then a short, handwritten note arrived in the mail.
"Doctor Williams,
I want to thank you for the excellent care you gave me while I was in the hospital.
I felt the love of Christ in your kind manner.
Sincerely, Sister Anastasia "
That simple thank you was the glorious shaft of sunlight breaking through our dark clouds of discouragement. Throwing in the towel was no longer a temptation. Medicine still looked promising and a new direction was considered. We felt a door had opened up; it was possible to serve the Lord Jesus while pursuing a career in medicine.
I wrote Sister Anastasia to tell her how much we appreciated her timely note of encouragement. Thus began a warm correspondence that reminded us often of Sister Anastasia's daily prayers for Henry's practice and our growing family.
And so it seemed appropriate to chose this special name for our daughter. Not because she loves to sing and Sister Anastasia was a music teacher, but because her names reminds us of God's demonstration of His personal concern for our lives in a time of crisis. All because a humble woman took the time to write a simple but profound thank you note.
