Named

When I was about twelve years old and at the height of my childhood akwardness (picture permed hair/big bangs/glasses/braces), I had this fuzzy image of the person I wanted to grow up to be. I wanted to be sophisticated, charming, stunningly intelligent. And, of course, beautiful just like Kelly from Saved by the Bell. Because, hello - then some Zack-like boy would fall in love with me and we'd live happily ever after in Paris.
As I grew older - sixteen, seventeen -, I still wanted to be all of those things. I just added in some other elements - I wanted to be successful, maybe famous, well traveled, and loving. Oh, and beautiful like Jennifer Aniston or Julia Roberts or Nicole Kidman. After all, wouldn't that be the key to finding someone who would love me and even better, really understand me? (and if that person was Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, I'd be okay with it. :) )
In college, the list got longer. I had this idea that I'd like to be political, well versed in all literature, classical music, art. I wanted my world to be filled with books and music and beauty. And that longing that we all have for being understood grew. I actually found what I had thought was going to be a long time coming - love...but still, there was this nagging feeling that I could be better and different, that there was an intimate communion missing. I still floundered to pin down who I'd grow up to become.
Marriage and motherhood and a few more defining years have settled some of this searching - the things most important have come to the surface. Even more, I want my house filled with music and books and love. I've accepted that I'll never be Angelina Jolie (though my husband probably has not) and if I'm never on CNN lecturing for human rights - well, I'll get my opinions across one way or another, in God's specific timing.
I say all of this to say this: we all struggle to define ourselves, to figure out the woman or man that God intended us to be. And we all long to be known - truly known and understood as we are, even if we can't really see ourselves anymore or if those around us don't seem to see us.
I know that I unfairly lay this burden on those in my life, wishing they would 'name' me, to validate who I am.
The truth is - the amazing, hopeful, get me through dry spots and frustrating situations truth- is that the one who intimately understands me and loves me anyway is the same one who tenderly created me to begin with. And no matter how my images of myself change or how my life's requirements stick me in seemingly unbending roles, God still recognizes all of that dream stuff within me. He puts out steps so that little by little, as much as I can on this earth, I'll attain some portion of my desires, and be surrounded by friends that do see beyond the surface of my actions.
And in the life after this one - the life that's going to be so real - I will be exactly and perfectly who I need to be. There will be no more hesitation or wishes for change or cravings to wake up as someone else. He will give me the name that eternally answers the soul's yearning and aching. It will be the most intimate of knowledge - a sweet communion when He recognizes me as being changed into the glory of an eternal body, and still - forever - me. Just a new me, wholly the woman He has always intended.
Which totally beats even happily ever after in Paris.

"I will also give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name is inscribed that no one knows except the one who receives it." Rev. 1:17

Teeny Tiny Update

It has been a while - internet access has been hazy. In a nutshell, here's what you missed - boys got bigger, smarter, louder, faster. A cat adopted us and has now decided to help repopulate the earth (anyone need a kitten?). I started a new novel. And that's all I can come up with at the moment.
And, also, yay! for spring!