What's in a Name?

In the last few years I have realized there is a great significance to a name – maybe not even just the name, but the actual act of naming. I have realized this in a number of ways – through grief, through joy, through anger, through confusion and numbness. Naming is so powerful because it is the point of which you are ready to recognize a thing, you give it importance or at least assign the amount of value you see in it with its name. Other people may not give something the same name. A good example of this is every time I go home, I assign myself the task of throwing out everything, hm, no, cleaning…no... simplifying my mom’s closets, garage, or attics. We both may start at naming the items as ‘stuff’ but as the project continues the names change – I tend to call it ‘junk’, ‘crap,’ or more colorful words as the day goes on, while my mom names it as ‘not that bad’, ‘still good’, or by the memory it is tied to. She also does not name my self-appointed task as simplifying – but you get the point. Names show value and feeling. (Note- my mom is not a hoarder or anything – I just really like getting rid of stuff)

The act of naming is at least equally as important. It is the process of acknowledging the thing – then calling it what it is – at least what it is to you in that moment. There is such power in that act alone – because once you acknowledge and name something, you can begin to understand it and the relationship you have with it (‘it’ could be a thing, ‘it’ could be an event, ‘it’ could be a person or relationship with a person.) The act of naming also allows you to claim something – to claim your feelings, to claim what it is that is happening, to claim it and name it – not just let it blindly happen to you. Once you have named the thing, you know what to call it takes away some of the power it has over you – you can face it and call it by name. I would imagine this is largely why groups like Alcoholics Anonymous (irony in the anonymous organization being a good example of the importance of naming – but anyway)  start out by saying “I am my name and I am an alcoholic” Two powerful things happen here – first you recognize who you are, you value first that you are you, not just a condition or your brokenness, you are not a nameless victim overcome by your problems, because you are claiming first and foremost – I have value and I have a name bigger than this. But you do not ignore the brokenness. Instead, you name it. You face it. You don’t make excuses or try and sugar coat it – you call the thing what it is so you can begin to overcome it and reclaim your power. Because before you can name it – it is naming you, and generally not very nicely.

So far, I have spoken of naming mostly from a ‘power’ standpoint or how beneficial it is in situations of conflict or negative relationships with a person or thing – but it is much more than that. In the first chapter of Genesis, we learn of how God speaks things into creation and names them as ‘good’. From the start, God has seen all creation as good. In the second creation story (yes, literal creationists – there are two creation stories in Genesis – and they aren't the same! But that's another story - haha get it?) But anyway, in the second story God does the whole creation thing, we are in the garden and God gives the man the job of naming every living thing. From the beginning – or just after the beginning began – God gave us the privilege, honor, and great responsibility of naming. So what do we do with it?

As I am now pregnant with my second child – naming has been on my mind for a while now! Naming a child is one of the greatest responsibilities a parent is first given. Throughout both of my pregnancies, I have focused on names since the beginning – actually since before the beginning, when we even thought of having kids and probably before that – I have thought of names. There is a scene from the movie Where the Heart Is that always comes to mind when the naming process starts. This is not word for word, but the pregnant woman is asked by a stranger what she is going to name her baby. She responds something like “I was thinking Wendi – with an i” and the man is not pleased. He tells her she needs to give that baby a strong name. She ends up naming her Americus. I’m not going for that name – but the name has always had to have meaning for me. (I should include, my husband, Josh, is included in the naming process, but he does not obsess about it from the moment we see the lines on the stick, or start thinking of having a baby. He is sure we will figure it out by the time we need to and doesn't wake up in the middle with the perfect name.) Josh and I come up with very different names. Mine probably fall more into the Wendi with an i categories, and his are more Americus sounding...neither work out too well! His general reply to my name suggestions are also “that is not a name, that's a word” and sometimes "that's not even a word" and he likes to (jokingly) suggest things like Jebediah or other Old Testament horrors that I refuse to let happen. It truly amazes me we ever agree on a name – but when we do, we both love it and it is as if that baby has always been named that and we finally discovered it.

Josiah seemed to always have his name. Here are few things we loved about the name Josiah. 1) It’s biblical – and has a pretty interesting story of a boy who became king at 8 years old and restored the Kingdom of Judah to God. 2) My husband’s name is Joshua, his brother’s name is Jeremiah – Josiah is like lovely combination of the two!                       His middle name comes from his grandfathers. Josh has both his grandfathers’ first names as his middle names (Alfred Ted). The problem we came across with Josiah is that my dad’s name was John – and our last name is Johnson. Josiah Dale John Johnson sounds like a racecar driver’s name and I was not about that. So we went with our dad’s middle names – Josiah William Claude.

There have been many things that have come up since naming him that have been lovely reminders that this was most definitely what his name was to be. One of these occasions was the night that Josiah was born. Josiah was stillborn at 37-weeks. Hours after he was born, we had a blessing and naming service with our parents and pastor. Part of the service includes a reading from Jeremiah that talks about how before we were formed in the womb God has known us. The verses right before this reading talk about King Josiah.

While searching for Noah’s name, I looked up what Josiah means. I had to laugh when I saw the meaning. God heals. At first it felt like tragic irony – luckily I have a great sense of humor for this sort of thing (it’s a gift of grief.) But for Josiah to mean God heals. God heals?! Heals my baby that died before he was born. It did not often feel like God healed him. I can’t say how many times in the days to follow the news of Josiah’s death that Josh and I prayed for God to heal. Our prayers for healing were to make this not have happened – undo this – Lazarus this situation or something! But in reflecting on our journey of grief and growth since these days – I think the name is perfect. Healing does not mean cure – it is one of the great and painful misunderstandings when reading about all of Jesus’ miracles after you have suffered great loss. (I’m not claiming that a physical cure didn't come with Jesus’ miracles – but the importance is the healing) Healing in Jesus time was about restoration. Restoring, wholeness, and meaning. Jesus healed the lepers because they were restored to community – during Jesus’ time, life centered around community – it was not the individualistic world we like to try and live in today. So Josiah was our healing – God may not have healed Josiah in the physical way that we wanted – but God healed us through Josiah.

Now for Noah. When we found out that Noah was a boy, we first liked the names Jacob, Isaac and Isaiah – but landed on Jacob – for a couple of days. We both really liked the name but then a few days later we looked at each other and agreed that we did not think this boy’s name was Jacob. Or Isaac. Or Isaiah. So we were back at square one. I was driving to work about a week later and the song Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey came on and I was talking to the then-unnamed Noah, telling him how his brother loved this song when I was pregnant with him and he would kick and dance the whole time the song was on. Suddenly while talking to him I felt like I knew his name – he was Noah. I shared this with Josh and he agreed that this was Noah. Noah’s middle name is Kenneth – which is my grandpa’s middle name and Josh’s best friend’s name. (Clearly we have a pattern – first name: biblical, middle name: family)

So what does Noah mean? Comfort. I couldn't believe it when I read it. (Now I laugh because I can tell you that 2 weeks from my due date – comfort is not in the top 100 words I would associate with this kid! But I do think it fits him – once again, in a non-physical way.) Being pregnant with our second child, again a son, just 9 months after the death of my first child seemed like anything but comfort – anxiety, stress, complete fear and constantly being terrified of just about everything, occasionally trust, hope and joy – but I would not name much of this as comfort overall. When I look back on our timeline, it felt like 3 pregnancies. I was pregnant with Josiah for 9 months. Then there was 9 months between Josiah and Noah. This pregnancy was the worst. It was the hardest – it was a pregnancy without a child, but with fear, with loss, with grief, with reoccurring loss of hope with each negative pregnancy test or each reminder that Josiah was gone. It was a pregnancy of growth that I never wanted to endure. A pregnancy of finding the new me and fighting it much of the way. Through a child was not born from it – many other life changing things were and I would not be the same without that time. And then we have my pregnancy with Noah – my pregnancy of comfort – while it started with lots of anxiety and fear, as Noah grew and it became more real that hope can come after loss and that good things can still happen.

Just as God’s healing was felt through Josiah, God’s comfort has been felt through Noah.

(I do worry a little I may be subconsciously putting a lot on my kids with their names – but I tend to view it more as a subconscious celebration of God’s presence in our lives.)