After all is said and done
After the rent is collected
And the last tears have been shed
revealing my great, big, beautiful heart…
After my breathing slows,
and the blinds close
for the long night…
After I settle down into my bed,
with a song on my lips,
and dreams undreamt…
when eternity swallows me up…
What will my name be?
I have been thinking about the power of renaming. Reclaiming the places and spaces that we have yielded to others. Possibly the things that we have given away…or things that have been taken away from us. What does it do when we seek to rename? In acquiring a new name for something (even for ourselves) we exercise our right to choose a new path; we can be different, and our endings can be different.
Folding into my thoughts are how many times in Scripture the thread of seed and sower is used to illustrate a beginning of something, and often an end. What happens when these seeds fall to the ground and when we rename them they are able to rise again, this time in a newly formed (and beautiful plant).
To be less philosophical about this, I must say that I don’t mean toxic positivity or fake joy. When I rename something, I first acknowledge the reality of what it is that I am experiencing in the here and now. For example, when I am at a crossroads at work and I have been exhausted for weeks on end, renaming looks like me admitting my fatigue and seeking a way to get myself out of burnout/fatigue.
I think of the end of my life often. I have been this way since I was a child. I wonder what will be said or my actions and my decisions. What will people name me?
As a new week is ready to emerge…what things can you rename? What situations are begging for reclamation?
What Will My Name Be?