My kids should have been born to celebrities.
They probably would have delighted in a lifetime branded as Apple, Coco, Blanket or Sage Moonblood.
Those are names that command some respect.
Molly and Micah, on the other hand? Positively boring. I mean, really, what were we thinking?
Any good parent knows that bearing the name of a fruit or bedcovering is the key to a fulfilling life of mystery and intrigue.
Molly: Okay, “Means” is bad enough, but at least that changes when I get married. But Molly? Please. Why couldn’t you have named me Wakely or Lola?
Wakely? Yes. Why didn’t I think of that?
Sure, Lola’s kind of cute, but all that comes to mind is a lifetime of saying, “Meet my daughter Lola. The showgirl.” (Think Copacabana.)
Meanwhile, my son, Micah, thinks his life would be more worth living if he had only been named “Blakesly.”
Micah: I just like the way it sounds.
My husband’s response: Well, it sounds to me like a kid who gets beat up a lot on the playground.
It reminds me of how the enemy tries to steal our identity in Christ. That feeling that we’re not “enough” -- just as we are -- starts young, doesn’t it?
It’s one of the enemy's favorite tactics. If he can convince our children they’re not anything special, that they can never measure up, the battle is half won. It keeps their expectations low and their view of God small.
For years, I succumbed to feelings of unworthiness. It's paralyzing. Maybe that’s why I’m driven by an overwhelming desire to talk regularly and specifically to my kids about their unique, God-given talents and their immeasurable value – not because of what they do, but because of Whose they are.
I have called you by name, you are mine. Isaiah 43:1