What's in a Name?

A young woman oddly moves around the counter. Her face glows although her eyes look tired. As her body passes in front of the counter her large belly is exposed. “Have you decided on a name yet?” her co-worker asks.

This is one of the common questions you hear when you are expecting. Why? What does a name tell us about a person? All of our kids have a biblical first name. Most people gather we are Christians when they hear me list off my children’s names. Each name was carefully thought over & prayed about. Our children know the story of why we chose their name & what it means.

What if the young woman in the story above answered her co-worker with a name you never heard of before? How would you feel if the name was the same as a person who hurt you badly in your past? What about a name that’s so absurd you are not quite sure just what to say?

Now think about foreign names. Names that are not common. Names that are difficult to pronounce & spell. Names that prompt curious people to ask about their origins time & again. If the story of how your name was chosen is lovely & people respond joyfully you probably wouldn’t mind telling it over & over. But, what if your name linked you to a past filled with sadness, abuse & terrifying memories. How many times would you want to tell it? This is the story for one of our adopted children.

We have given our adopted children a new life. A fresh start to have all the things that kids should have. One of those things included a new name: a biblical first name we chose (just like their siblings), their Russian name as their middle name & the same last name our entire family shares. We have always explained that they have two names. We love them both. Both names are theirs & they may use which ever one they chose. Because our children were not babies when they came home to us, we continued using the only names they had ever been called, their Russian names. 

This past summer our daughter asked if we would begin calling her by her first name. Consequently, she did not hear “What?” after saying her name the first time to new people. No one was asking her to repeat her name & then asking her how to spell it. Her sister, with a common American name, was never asked to repeat her name or spell it. No one was saying things like, “Wow, that’s an unusual name. Where does it come from?” By deciding to be called by her first name, she was able to gain a little bit of peace in her life, which is often filled with so much anxiety due to her past. She found she didn’t have to explain her past if she didn’t want to. She could just be the little girl she is today…like her sister. Soon after, our son asked if we would also call him by his first name. 

Kids can be finicky. I wasn’t sure if they would change their minds after a few weeks. Many people have heard me call my kids by their first names recently & rightly have been a bit confused. A formal name change seems too restrictive at the time. After six months, I’m guessing that they are happy right now being called by their first names. Therefore, may I officially introduce you to Sarah & Joshua.

Sarah- means princess (in Hebrew)

Joshua- means Jehovah is generous (in Hebrew)

Birthdays are for Celebrating!

Each year when our little O has a birthday, it is bittersweet for me. It starts out typical enough with thoughts of friends, presents and gifts. Maybe I’ll hang some signs or streamers. I might possible buy some balloons or special birthday wrap for his gift, but soon I remember the “forgotten” year.

He came to the orphanage sometime after his fourth birthday. We received his referral about six months later. It told us he was four years old, but no birth date was listed. During the end of our first visit, we were able to ask lots of questions regarding him and his sister. Everyone referred to him as a four-year-old although the birth date didn’t line up. Delicately through the translator, I tried to figure out the error. Was I calculating wrong? Was the birth date incorrect? Finally, I stated plainly that if the birth date was indeed correct, then he was five. Following an awkward silence, the director replied, “then he is five.” My heart was broken! This little boy, who I was hoping I could soon call my own, had had a birthday gone unrecognized. No cake. No gift. No cards or friends wishing him “happy birthday!” Did he even know how old he was? I have no idea what kinds of birthday celebrations he might have had in his birth home. It’s possible that this was not the first birthday forgotten. That day I made a promise. A promise that his birthday would be celebrated every year after.

For many of us that have kids from “hard places”, our grief can be overwhelming when we think of all that our kids have missed before they came home to us. Ultimately, we learn to not dwell too long in the past since there’s no modifying it. But instead, look at today for what we can add to their lives. As his third birthday with us approaches, I am excited to see him celebrate his birthday, his special day. And everyone will know exactly how old he is.

A Table Big Enough

I want to tell you a story. A story about a family. A family that ate together every day at their kitchen table. There was room for all of them. They sat. They ate. They laughed. Life was good.

            One day the family learned that soon two more children would be arriving! They were thrilled! They talked about the new children. They dreamed about the new children. They prepared for the new children. But what about our table? It’s not big enough! The decision was made to add a bench to squeeze everybody in. When the new children arrived, there was room for everyone. Life was very good.

            As the days past, discontentment arose. Some children complained about being squished. Some children wouldn’t eat. There were mean eyes, harsh words, hurt feelings & on at times, tears were spilled at the table. So a new table was found slightly larger than the first. The bench was replaced by chairs so no two children would be touching. But, something was missing. There were not enough chairs for everyone. The parents decided it would have to do. Life was hard.

Some days the children ate first then the parents followed. Other days, the parents would just eat standing up while the children sat. Many times, the parents ate alone in the other room. They could overhear their children in the kitchen talking. They argued and they sang, they yelled and they pouted, but they were together. Life was changing.

            Finally, the day came when the family had had enough. Some children wanted to sit with the parents. Some children didn’t want to sit alone. Other children didn’t want to sit at all. The parents missed their faces around the table, their laughter and their singing. They decided the arguing and the tears may still sometimes be, but being together through them was the most important part of being a family. So, the decision was made and a new table was found. It was big enough for everyone and life was the best yet.  

 

 

This is the story of our family. Yes, we did buy a new table, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about making room in our life for change and for two little people. It’s about becoming one big family and finding our way in that journey. There’s room here for all of us and now we have a table that fits us as well.