What's in a Name? Part, the Second...

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  II Corinthians 4:18

This is my "Bio" from Twitter: Mother, Friend, Wife, Teacher, Runner, Reader, Art Lover, Pianist, Traveler, Addicted to Wonder and Magic, Relentless Pursuer of Beauty and Truth.  It doesn't say everything that is true about me, but it gives a pretty good snapshot.  Here is a question I have come to wonder about: What if something happened to my legs and I could never run again?  Who would I be then?  What if I couldn't play piano?  Or what if I lost my eyesight and the only art works I could see are the ones imprinted in my memory?  Would I cease to be me?

My husband and I had always agreed that when our children were born I would quit my job and stay at home to raise them.  It was a responsibility and privilege I welcomed.  But...I had loved being a teacher.  I was good at it.  And people were always telling me I was good at it.  Almost every day.  Then, all of a sudden, I was home all day with a beautiful little baby who had no language.  And, even if he had been the most wordy guy in the world, my husband could never have replaced all those voices that had told me I was doing a good job.  And he wasn't...wordy, I mean. :)  All of a sudden I didn't know who I was.

In his book, Everything Belongs, Richard Rohr pictures our lives as concentric circles.  The inner circle is our soul, our essence, our ethos.  The outer circle is our "skin", our reputation, our appearance, our image, our ego.  Our "skin" is not necessarily bad, it is just so much less...less essential, less sustaining, less eternal.  And yet, most of us give far more attention and care to the outer circle than to the inner, and we are likely starving ourselves to death.  He suggests that there are two paths back to the center; that of prayer and love, and that of suffering. 

"Suffering seems to get our attention; love and prayer seem to get our heart and our passion...This ordinary path back to Paradise is the blood, guts, and ecstasy of the whole biblical text...You do not resolve the God question in your head--It is resolved in you when you agree to bear the mystery of God."

Losing my identity as "teacher" has actually not been the most traumatic struggle I have faced with identity, just one of the first.  Perhaps the personas I have "created" for myself become more deeply entrenched as I grow older and therefore, when God sees fit to gently wrest that "false identity" away from me it is all the more excruciating.  But it is absolutely necessary.  If I am ever to know God as I want to know Him; if I am ever to really know myself; He must remove the barriers I repeatedly erect through my own folly.  "First there is the fall, and then there is the recovery from the fall.  But both are the mercy of God."  ~Julian of Norwich

Here is the beautiful irony.  Often, once God has wrested away from us that something that we have elevated to a place of definition, He purifies it and hands it back to us redeemed and beautified and we are able to revel in it without arrogance or abuse.  Consider these frustrated words from the demon, "Uncle Screwtape", in C.S. Lewis' book, The Screwtape Letters.

"I know the enemy (God) also wants to detach men from themselves, but in a different way...When He talks of their losing their 'selves', He only means abandoning the clamor of self-will; once they have done that, He really gives them back all their personality, and boasts (I am afraid sincerely) that when they are wholly His they will be more themselves than ever."

I'm teaching again.  In fact, just over a year after my daughter's birth, opportunities began to present themselves in children's choir, youth Sunday School, and now teaching history to high schoolers who are primarily educated at home.  But it does not define me.  It is part of the glory God placed in me.  But, He has enabled me to live in awe and wonder as He teaches through me.  And that is a lovely thing.

What's in a name?  What is it that gives us identity and value?  Is it our daring exploits?  Our fame?  Our accomplishments?  Our beauty?  Is it our destiny?  Is it what lies deep within? 

My friend Charles responded to yesterday's post with a beautiful explanation of the significance of naming in the Native American tradition.  He explained how he and Siouxsan have prayerfully given names of destiny to their daughters; names like "Peace/Reconciliation", "Victorious" and "True Worshiper of Creator".  What will it mean to Nanaiya, Imaiya and Aianli to grow up having these names of blessing spoken over them every day? 

What's in a name?

Thank you to those of you who have contributed to the discussion thus far.  I welcome your thoughts.  "As iron sharpens iron..."

"My only desire is to give myself completely to the action of this infinite love Who is God, Who demands to transform me into Himself secretly, darkly, in simplicity, in a way that has no drama about it and is infinitely beyond everything spectacular and astonishing, so is its significance and its power."  ~Thomas Merton

Comments

[Gail Hyatt]

Shelia, I am just now getting around to reading these two posts on" What's in a Name?". Very stimulating indeed. As my children are leaving the nest one by one, the question of "Who am I - now?" has been at the forefront of my thoughts. This is a huge transition in my life. I've been raising five children for the past 29 years. Now the house is virtually empty. Even Mike is gone a lot, traveling on business.

Who am I without people to define me? I find myself desperately looking for something I'm doing or a role that I'm playing to give me identity. Every answer seems to be found in someone else. I'm the wife of a CEO. I'm a mother, a mother-in-law. I'm a grandmother, a teacher, a president, a board member. I'm a friend. If I were alone, or when I am alone, who am I, then?

"What if something happened to my legs and I could never run again? Who would I be then? What if I couldn't play piano? Or what if I lost my eyesight and the only art works I could see are the ones imprinted in my memory? Would I cease to be me? ..." When you asked these questions it really got my head spinning. I have pat answers that come to mind, but they're not good enough.

I want to ponder this and ask my Creator to instruct me here. Who am I? I want to hear from Him. What I do, and the roles I play are expressions of me, but they are not me. Who is the "me" that seeks expression? I think I have a faint idea of what He will tell me. I'm listening.