a name can really mess you up…or force you to discover who you really are. and who that is may be much farther from reality than you’d like to venture. but you keep messing up. so you must go. and when you do, things change. slowly. but they change. and finally you know contentment.
i’m glad i’m not named after anyone in particular. my mum heard my name, liked it, gave it to me. there weren’t many of my kind in 79. now they run screaming through the cereal aisle and i hear a parent tell me to “get back here” and i look. but it’s not me. it’s some 3 footer who was supposed to be holding on to mummy’s cart.
my name asks a question: Who is like God?
i used to think it was a statement coz i never saw it with the proper punctuation. i got excited by the thought that i was like God. yeah, no humility here. now (in my wiser age) that i know it’s a question i’m actually relieved. it’s like someone’s looking at me with one eye and saying, “as if!” and i respond with “hey, i’m chillin.”
but it would be nice to at least momentarily feel that i’m living out who i’m meant to be in whatever shape or form God desires that to happen.
(i need to read more. my vocabulary bank has a broken fridge and an issue of ants.)