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I am 100% confident that my mother had no idea what my name meant when she named me. I have always liked my name, despite the proclivity to misspellings.
In a really powerful moment last week, I was reminded about a pretty important fact, in relation to the meaning of my name. The Greek origin of the name Stacy means "resurrection” or “One who shall rise again”. It wasn’t until I intersected with the faith world as a 17 year old that I saw those statements printed on a little floral pocket card. I really didn’t give it much thought at the time, but I do remember thinking that maybe, that meant something special for me.
Starting with my family of origin, I struggle with a core issue of neglect. I believe that is one of the reasons that I try really hard to stress to each child that comes across my path that he/she has a voice that deserves to be heard. I think that reading that, by virtue of my name, there was maybe, just maybe, Someone was paying attention to me, whispering that there was hope, reminding me that there was intended to be a renewing beyond what was present.
This extrafreakinglong intense season of healing in my life has, for sure, felt like a series of deaths. What I am planning to stay mindful of, however, is that before I was even old enough to understand, my title was tied up in hope. Hope that there is a beyond the rubble. Hope that I have a future that far exceeds my limited vision.
Yeah, I am going to lean into the little reminder of “one who shall rise again” this season.
Does your name have special meaning to you? Would you re-name yourself if given the opportunity?