The Wordhord
In Old English, a wordhord was a hoard of words — a store of language kept close, ready to be drawn on when it mattered most. To unlock the wordhord was to begin to speak with purpose and skill.
One of the earliest and most evocative uses comes from Beowulf, just as the hero prepares to speak for the first time:
Him se yldesta andswarode, The eldest of them answered,
werodes wīsa, wordhord onlēac: the leader of the warriors, unlocked his wordhoard:
“Wē synt gumcynnes Gēata lēode “We are men of the Geatish people,
and Hīgeles heoras; Beowulf is mīn nama…” Hygelac’s hearth-companions; my name is Beowulf…”
To open one’s wordhord is not simply to speak — it is to draw on knowledge, memory, and meaning, and shape them into something that can be shared.
This section gathers reflections on the structure, history, and meaning of English words. You’ll find etymology cards, seasonal explorations, and word-family notes that trace how language grows — not at random, but through stories, roots, and sound.
Each entry examines how a word was built, where it came from, and how its meaning has shifted through time, translation, and use. It’s a place for wordcraft grounded in history — practical, curious, and shaped by the belief that language is not just learnt, but forged.
Strength Out of Weakness
A study of ‘strength’ in Hebrews 11, tracing the Greek and Old English roots behind the idea of weakness becoming strength, with examples from French, Spanish, German, and other European translations.
Welcome – The Right Hand of Friendship
Old English ‘wilcuma’ meant ‘a wished-for guest’. The Greek ‘δέχομαι’ in Hebrews 11:31 adds another layer — to receive with the right hand. ‘Welcome’ joins will, friendship and faith into one open gesture.
The Burning of Anger
A reflection on Hebrews 11:27 through the history of the word ‘anger’. From Norse sorrow to Greek fire, this short piece links language, Scripture, and the village beacon that marks the start of Christmas.
To Make Holy — The Word ‘Sacrifice’
From Latin sacer ‘holy’ and facere ‘to make’, ‘sacrifice’ first meant ‘to make something holy’. The Greek ‘προσφέρω’ adds the sense of offering or bringing near to God.
A Better Country
The word ‘country’ once meant the open land beyond the walls. From Latin ‘contrata’ and Greek ‘χώρα’, it described a region or homeland rather than a nation. Hebrews 11:16 speaks of ‘a better country’ — the true homeland God prepares.
Promise – Words Sent Forward
From Greek ‘ἐπαγγελία’ and Latin ‘promissio’, ‘promise’ means a word sent forward — something spoken in faith before fulfilment.
Stranger – Dwelling Beside, Not Within
From Latin ‘extraneus’, meaning ‘from outside’, ‘stranger’ once meant traveller or guest. In Hebrews 11:9, Abraham lives ‘beside’ rather than ‘within’—a pilgrim waiting for home.
Holy Fear — Wholeness, Awe, and the Turning of Danger into Reverence
The phrase ‘in holy fear’ comes from a single Greek word meaning reverent awe. In English, holy once meant ‘whole,’ and fear meant ‘danger.’ Together they trace how peril turned into reverence—wholeness preserved through awe before what is sacred.
From Ages to Universe
From Greek ‘αἰών’ to Latin ‘universum’, the story of how one word came to mean all things created and held together by God’s word.
Faith — trust in what cannot yet be seen
More than belief alone, ‘faith’ in the Bible is trust in God’s faithfulness — confidence in what he has said, even when it is not yet seen.
Green and Groenten: From Growth to Vegetables
In a Flemish supermarket, the word groenten caught my eye. It means ‘vegetables’, but it shares its history with English green.
From ‘deor’ to ‘dieren’: how English ‘deer’ and Dutch ‘huisdieren’ share a root
In Belgium, a supermarket sign reads ‘Huisdieren’ (‘house animals’). Dutch ‘dieren’ shares its root with English ‘deer’ and German ‘Tier’. Once the same word, their meanings diverged over time.
Butcher – from Flemish bone-hackers to English goat-slayers
Discover the etymology of ‘butcher’: Flemish ‘beenhouwerij’ means ‘bone-hacker’s shop’, Danish ‘slagter’ comes from ‘to slaughter’, and English ‘butcher’ from French ‘goat-slayer’. Explore how German, Italian, Portuguese, Celtic, and Basque languages name this everyday trade.
Tracing the Crane’s Berry
From cranes to bogs, the name ‘cranberry’ traces a northern path through Low German Kraanbere and Dutch Kraanbes, linking birds, berries, and marshland speech.
From ‘Pepon’ to Pumpkin: A Sun-Cooked Word’s Journey
From Greek ‘pepon’ meaning ‘cooked by the sun’, ‘pumpkin’ travelled through Latin and French before taking root in English. Its story links ancient languages with New World harvests.
The Boiling Origins of Broth
Broth is one of the oldest English cooking words, rooted in a Proto-Germanic word for boiling liquid. From medieval hearths to modern bouillon cubes, its story spans kitchens, languages, and centuries
Potato – the comfort of cold weather
By November the weather turns and jacket potatoes make sense again — simple, filling, and familiar. The word ‘potato’ has travelled as far as the crop itself, from Taíno ‘batata’ and Quechua ‘papa’ to Spanish ‘patata’ and English. Across Europe, languages called it an ‘earth apple’ or linked it to a truffle.
Parsnip: The Root of a Fork
The English ‘parsnip’ comes from Latin ‘pastinaca’, a word for both parsnip and carrot, and for the fork used to dig them up. Most European languages kept this Latin root, though Spanish ‘chirivía’ took a different path through Arabic. A vegetable named for the tool that unearthed it.
Poppy: from sleep to remembrance
The word ‘poppy’ traces back to Latin ‘papaver’, borrowed into Old English as ‘popiġ’. Across Europe it left a trail of relatives—French ‘pavot’, Italian ‘papavero’, Welsh ‘pabi’, German ‘Mohn’. Once a symbol of sleep and death, it later became a flower of remembrance.
Pear – a fruit that bruises easily
A word as soft as the fruit it names. Pear came into English through Old English pere and Latin pirum, a name that may go back to an ancient root meaning ‘to crush’. The same story ripened across Europe in poire, pera, and Birne.

