What's in a name by Falaniko Medrano and Rafaela Roark

What’s in a name by Niko Medrano

What does your name mean?”

I’ve been asked this several times. “Falaniko” is certainly a unique name. Unfortunately, its translation doesn’t mean anything particularly interesting. It is the Samoan variant of the name “Francis”, which basically just means “from France”. Not only is this rather dull, but it’s also untrue of me. I am most definitely not “from France”. ...


But my name does carry more meaning than its translation. It is found in the person whom I was indirectly named after: my Abuelo, or Grandfather.

I had heard stories about him ever since I was little. I couldn’t recall them all perfectly, but I had heard enough to have a great respect for the man. What stuck with me weren’t the exciting stories from his difficult and crazy life, but rather his integrity, honesty, compassion, and most importantly, his love of the Lord.

My parents wanted to name me after him. “Francisco” was his name. However, there were already plenty of other Franciscos in the family, so they decided to put a unique twist on it, giving me the Samoan version. In this regard, my name reflects both halves of my heritage: my paternal Grandfather’s name spoken in my mom’s language.

I had met my Abuelo several times growing up. It was hard to get to know him back then; he only spoke Spanish. There was also this sense of reverence I had for him; my dad had told me what a great man he was. It was a little overwhelming. This little old man feeding the chickens held a secret. He was a soldier of righteousness.

I will never forget the last time I saw him. He was falling apart, lying in a nursing home bed. They said he was having trouble remembering people. And yet, as soon as he saw my dad, his face lit up as he instantly recognized him.

At the time, I was only about 12 years old. I was never a very emotionally “tough” person, especially back then. As I saw this man, this monument of great character, wisdom, and kindness that my dad had built for me in my mind, reduced to a sad, dying figure lying alone on a bed, it was just too much. I cried. My family told me not to; that it would upset him. But I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t. I wasn’t even that close to him, and yet I felt like I’d known him my whole life. How could this have happened to him?

For me, my Abuelo has always been a symbol of what the Lord can do in a person’s life. For this reason, “Falaniko” makes me think of the man who turned his whole life around because the Lord touched his heart.

This is what my name means.

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What’s In a Name? by Rafaela Venise Medrano Roark

“What does your name mean?”

“God has healed” or “the most beautiful person (in mind and body) in the world, often with long dark hair and a golden skin tone”. Originating as the Spanish and Portuguese version of the Hebrew name Raphaela.

For the longest time, I never understood why my parents picked such a unique and hard name to say. All my friends had easy and common names: Hannah, Sarah, Ashley, Stacy. You know, something you can find on a pre-made necklace in a souvenir shop. But nope – not even my nickname could be found with the correct spelling (“Ela” with one “L”). But as I’ve grown, I’ve begun to discover a deeper meaning for the name I hold based on the woman I am named after.

I do agree greatly with the first definition: “God has healed”. I would be nowhere without my faith and without Christ’s healing and strength. The second definition however, besides the long dark hair and golden(ish) skin, I don’t know how accurate it is. At least for me. My Abuela, however, the original Rafaela Medrano, definitely lived up to both definitions.

Married at 12, pregnant at 13, and a mother at 14, the stories I have heard about this spectacular woman are something out of an old western novel or a tele novella. Arranged marriage, drunken husband, 12 kids, living in a small hut in Mexico- and madly in love with her life and her family. My Abuela (grandmother) was rarely seen outside of the kitchen, but when she was, she was working hard beside her family and supporting her husband. Though they were in an arranged marriage, my Abuelo and Abuela fell deeply in love with each other, always standing beside each other even when things were hard. She stood beside him through the drunken nights and stood beside him the day he accepted Christ as his savior and put the bottle down for good. I found one picture of the two of them kissing, my Abuelo holding my Abuela’s cheeks with 1 hand and the other around her waist. They were old and grey at this point, but the love in the picture is as if they were two young kids again. My Tia told me that when the picture was taken, my Abuela was jokingly scolding my Abuelo for something he said, and he grabbed her and kissed her (Medrano men shutting up women with a kiss since the beginning of time, haha). Till the day they died, my grandparents loved each other with everything they had (even when all they had was a one-bedroom mud hut that they built themselves).
They did all they could to support their children and give them the best life they could, just as my father did for Niko and I and I pray I can do for TJ. My Abuela was a US Citizen, so whenever she was about to go into labor, she would hop the border so that her children could be born in America. Though she did not make it in time for each child (my father being one of the exceptions), she did it to give her children the best chance they could have in life (this opened the door for 2 of her sons to go to college and made it possible for her 38 grandchildren to have thriving lives in America). The idea of going into labor and not having Dante there beside me is terrifying, so the thought of my Abuela doing it without the love of her life beside her, the father of her child, is unimaginable. I cannot fathom the strength and faith that took.

I remember the last time I went to go see my Abuelo in the nursing home. I was 10 at this point and I remember thinking that this frail weak man laying before me could not be the strong heroic Abuelo I had grown up seeing and hearing stories about. His memory was foggy, but he recognized my father instantly. I thought he recognized me as well, and in a way he did. His eyes lit up the moment he saw me and heard my name. Hearing his wife’s name spoken allowed again bought such joy and life to his eyes. I realized that though frail in the physical, he was far from weak. He had been stronger than I ever could be, for 10 years. Holding onto his love for his wife till his last breath and spending all this time, ready to go be with her in eternity, but instead being strong for his family. It made me wonder, what kind of woman could make a man love her that deeply and that eternally. I now know that Christ’s love is that eternal, and when you build your marriage with Christ as your foundation the love in your marriage will also be eternal. 10-year-old-me didn’t see that at the time.

I never got to know my Abuela personally. She died the year I was born, leaving me as the sole legacy of her name. My parents took me to see her when I was born, so we have 1 picture of the 2 Rafaela Medranos in existence. Not knowing her in person made me want to live up to the name that much more. Every time we went to California to see the family, I’d hear stories about Abuela Fela and her amazing cooking or her huge loving heart and her intense honesty and respect for my Abuelo. Even if she disagreed with him, she would never disrespect or contradict him. From what I have been told, my Abuela was the perfect example of a Proverbs 31 Woman. The Crown on her husband’s head. She is part of the reason that the only thing I can successfully cook is Mexican food. And she is also my constant reminder of the kind of wife and mother I want to be for Dante and TJ.

Though my Abuela made her fair share of mistakes, just like me, her story is a constant inspiration to me that through faith and the loving support of your family, you can get through anything. From being a small town girl, married off to a stranger in Mexico, to falling deeply in love with that stranger, finding Christ, and moving to Texas to raise her family of 12 children, I can only pray that I am a fraction of the woman she was.

That is what my name means.