He Knows My Name: Remembering My Spiritual Identity

My husband and I joke that we almost never call each other by our first names. I don’t know why, we never have. Unless I can’t get his attention, or we are in public, we just don’t.

I’m not used to hearing my name spoken. My kids call me mom, and when I talk to my mother, it’s not like she needs to use my name either. She knows who I am.

My parents thoughtfully chose my name knowing it would be mine for my whole stay on this earth. I remember laboring over the decision with each of my own children. So far I’ve never been sorry about our choices.

My youngest is named Simon and it began as a joke. Our first two kids have very strong personalities and have never listened very well. I joked we should name our next child something that means hears or listens. When it turns out Simon means he who listens or he who hears. Yet, even when it was meant as a bit of a joke in the beginning the name grew on us.  Now that he is a little older, I sometimes think it should be “he who must be listened to” as he finds his voice and makes room for himself in the family hierarchy.

On a daily basis I am usually hon, mommy, mom, mama, ma’me, miss, lady and even occasionally Bethany. But I am also called many other things which I don’t always listen for.

I am loved and beloved.

I am chosen

I am adopted

I am a child of God

I am a citizen of heaven

I have good work to do on this earth

I am set apart

I am accepted

I am known

When I forget these things, I limit myself to how the world around me identifies me.  But I don’t have to let this happen. I can actively listen for his voice calling me by name, all the wonderful, beautiful names he gives me. When I do that, I am a more complete person and I am better equipped to journey ahead, because I know who I am, who I am called and I confidently accept the work given to me to do.