Importance of Names by Lorilee Guenter

 

Isaiah 43:1b
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

Hello, my name is... Finishing that statement should be easy. After all, I have lived with my name for decades. I like the name my parents chose for me - the middle names of my aunts. And yet, I have been known to introduce myself two different ways, using either my given name, Lorilee, or a shortened form, Lori. One day Bruce asked me about this after he noticed I introduced myself each way within about ten minutes of each other.

Up until high school, I used my given name almost exclusively. I would often have to spell it for people but would rarely need to correct pronunciation. Close friends and family used nicknames, but to everyone else I was, I am, Lorilee. Just before high school we moved. With the move came the frustration of people mispronouncing my name. Even after I corrected them many times I seemed destined to have Lorilee become Lori Lee or Lori uh Lee. Ugh! One day after yet another attempt to correct the same people I decided it would be less aggravating to have everyone call me Lori. I still used Lorilee anytime I needed to write my name, so all my homework and documents held my given name.

I recently had the question posed to me: "Have you ever thought of returning to Lorilee as your name?" Our name is a piece of our identity. When my counsellor proposed the idea, she talked about how, since my choice came out of frustration, it may be an unconscious reminder. Hmm. I never even considered the idea until that conversation. Something I needed to think about. This question prompted conversation with those who knew me well. Now I mostly introduce myself as Lorilee. Many people who know me still go back and forth between the two versions.

As I considered how my name impacts my writing and my interaction with others, I remembered a time someone I never previously met telling me I pronounced my name wrong. I walked away from that encounter and complained to Bruce, "How can she tell me how to pronounce my name?" Shades of high school frustration returned. I had used this name for decades. I heard my parents and grandparents use the name chosen for me. Now a stranger tried to correct my pronunciation. After complaining out the frustration, I tucked the memory away.

Even tucked away these events impact my actions. Our neighbourhood has seen many unfamiliar immigrants move in bringing their customs and their names. I sense frustration rising in me when I hear others say things like: "I'll never learn how to say that name", or "Why can't they give their children a name we can pronounce?" Why indeed. That name might be chosen to honour a family member. It might have ties to important people or events in their own history. Why should others give up their choice for our convenience? I don't think they should. Their story can enrich our own. Our honest attempts to listen to them and to use their names properly can build into relationships. By working to learn their name we show they are important enough for us to put time and effort into respecting them.

Friends in spite of differences

I have stumbled over names that are foreign to me. I expect to encounter more names that cause me to stumble. I have made it my practice to ask if my pronunciation is correct when I encounter an unknown name. I ask them help me say it correctly. This gives me the opportunity to demonstrate they are worth the time for me to learn this.

Whichever name I use, Lori or Lorilee, God knows my name. He knows how to pronounce it. He has shown me the frustrations I had can and will be used by Him as they shape my actions.

Hello, my name is Lorilee, derived from the laurel tree, a symbol of honour and victory. I will also answer to Lori. I choose to honour those I meet by learning their name and using it well. Will you join me?

Pondering Priorities – Denise M. Ford

As I rounded the corner past our garage, I heard the unmistakable, “Jay, Jay.” I knew before I set foot into the backyard that a blue jay had returned to enjoy some seeds from our bird feeder. The calls became louder, growing with intensity, echoing and shouting, “Jay, Jay.”

 

I looked up towards the top of the spruce trees trying to pinpoint where the blue jay balanced at her perch. There at the highest branch the white face delineated with black and blue captured my gaze, its steely black eyes holding mine in a daring bold stare.  “Jay, Jay!” she called. I nodded and mumbled my excuses for retrieving the burlap covers from my flowers.  “I’ll get out of your way soon,” I whispered.

 

“Jay, Jay!”  She swooped by me, focusing on a landing not far from the other flower bucket awaiting my undraping. I carefully stepped away as I realized she had a partner replying to her shouts as he flitted from the crab-apple tree to the ground below the feeder.  I quickly went inside to retrieve my camera as I hoped to capture a shot of the visiting pair. We have strategically placed bird feeders directly beyond our kitchen bay windows so we can enjoy the frequent and varied menagerie that relies on the food sources we faithfully replenish.

 

Surprisingly, as I snuck into place to begin my photographic shoot, a small flock of blue jays descended one by one next to each other on the grassy patch under the feeders.

 

As if a patchwork blanket had been shaken and spread before them, the jays came together to eat companionably amidst the scattered seeds.

 

For nearly thirty minutes the picnic proceeded with blue jays alighting for refreshment and then posting themselves in the higher branches to spy any approaching predators. Back and forth they flitted, eating and scanning. Thankfully the magpies and squirrels which also depend on our backyard diner did not challenge the serenity and comradery of this band of jays.  In fact, the acrobatic squirrels who twist and gyrate themselves into all sorts of ridiculous poses as they attempt to open the bird feeders had unknowingly contributed to the feast that unfolded for this travelling jay flock.

 

As they sated themselves scrounging for every bit of seed, one by one the jays took turns grabbing new morsels from the feeder that swayed above them. I continued to maneuver myself to hopefully acquire photographs that would reveal the scene before me.  I wondered how professional nature photographers managed patience and precision with finesse and clarity.

 

All too soon the party dispersed, as a silent signal moved them to depart towards the edge of the row of spruce trees.  Except two remained, enjoying the quiet cove, eventually calling to each other as they retreated into the thickness and camouflage of the spruce trees between our and the neighbour’s yards.

 

As I reflect on the word I chose as my guiding light for this unexpected year, awareness, I gratefully accept and claim my message.

Awareness!

Become immersed in it.

Awareness!

Become intensified by it.

Awareness!

Become determined by it.

Let it open your ears to listen and to follow the messages presented to you.

Let it open your soul so you may delight in the abundance of mercy offered to you.

Awareness!

Let yourself respond within an everlasting covenant with God.

 

At that time my covenant stated that I would make writing a top priority in my life, with awareness serving as the mechanism to inspire my writing ideas. However, the CoVid virus broadened and altered the scope of my priorities. My awareness now includes the fears, anxiety, frustrations, isolation, disappointments, limits and boundaries of living safely with a deadly virus that swirls and lurks in the atmosphere. Writing priorities of any kind happen haphazardly and certainly without discipline. I had revised a purposeful strategy which I hoped would begin consistently this September. And then the question arose as I struggled to begin a writing schedule. What still matters?

 

Like a little flock of blue jays our immediate cohort during this pandemic remains as our sons’ families. That’s the group that travels with us, with whom we pause to enjoy an outdoor picnic, and who we protect from danger as we enjoy each other’s company. Our little band, our little party scrounging for the moments of meaningful time and searching for ways to branch out in our love and care for each other.

 

Yesterday, I called my dearest friend and we reiterated the priority of our prayer covenant with each other. We promised to continue to pray for wisdom and protection as we choose to boldly grandparent in-person throughout these days of an unrelenting deadly virus. We choose to support each other as we receive our calls to come to help care for our grandchildren. Every time we swoop in to be with the grandkids, we find unexpected bounty amidst simple scatterings of laughter, love and faith.

 

Are we aware of who provides, protects and places us as needed so we can lavish loving care on our grandchildren? Yes! Do I understand how this Nana role limits my writing priority? Yes!

 

The year 2020 definitely highlighted Awareness, as it prevailed during the unfolding of this pandemic. What still matters? Immersing myself in loving Nana activities and allowing the intensity of those experiences to infuse unique and meaningful writing ideas. As I respond to my little flock, I trust in the priority of love.

Swishing with Awareness – Denise M. Ford

On New Year’s Day we went to the Calgary airport to pick-up our daughter-in-law’s mother. Unsure if we had missed her, my husband headed to the baggage carousels while I placed myself outside the swishing doors that open to arriving passengers.

Photo Copyright by Sergiy Serdyuk

Swish! An excited woman ran eagerly through the doors to her awaiting partner. He enveloped her in an embrace that emanated a wave of resounding relief. I found myself sighing with them as I recalled the same repeated scenarios my husband and I had experienced during our long-distance courtship.

As my husband returned to wait with me, he gave me a pointed nudge which I thought meant that he too had been reminiscing over thoughts of our past reunions.  Not so!  He tugged my coat sleeve to force my attention to a two-year-old boy with a suitcase in tow as his father called after him to turn around.  The boy kept pulling, stubbornly going away from his father. The Dad finally reached him and guided him back to his mother and siblings. 

We remarked to each other how that reminded us of our grandson’s chaotic attempts to thwart his parents’ guidance. As we chuckled, the same little boy came running before us, but stopped at the swishing doorway.  His Dad strode quickly behind him with guarded supervision. The boy watched intently as the doors swished, opening and closing, releasing passengers who hurried by him.

Swish, swish. The little boy’s arms pushed tightly against his sides. He closed his fists in a determined posture. Swish! A lightening move by the boy as he dashed through the open doors. His Dad, in a second of paused disbelief, reacted and ran after his son just before the doors pulled shut.

Swish!  We witnessed a blurring rescue as the Dad ran back out with his son in his arms. Immediately the alarms began to ring loudly, and the doors refused to swish open. I don’t know how long the alarms kept ringing, because my husband looked over to the baggage area spotting our intended passenger.

Photo by NATIONAL POST

Still laughing, we passed by the Dad and son as they rejoined their family. I paused to say,

”Your son reminds us of our grandson’s curiosity and boldness.”

“I’m just glad I got him in time,” the Dad replied.

Days later, these incidents served as metaphors for my thoughts on this new year. I followed a prompting to go to the familiar words of Isaiah 55:8.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.

I had prayed through this verse repeatedly as a series of provision and placement unfolded during 2019. Like that Dad who sprinted into action to provide a quick rescue for his son, I had offered up grateful praise as unique provision unfolded and came to our family through God’s specific placement.

Provision and placement for a permanent job for my husband that allowed him to work remotely from home. Now he could schedule time for his most important role as Pop-Pop to our grandchildren.

Provision and placement for our daughter-in-law as she interviewed for a new teaching role. She planned to truthfully disclose her pregnancy and admit that she would need to go on maternity leave one month into the school year. During the interview, I prayed for the principal to recognize Catherine’s incredible teaching talents and to sense an unmistakable bond between them. Minutes later, Catherine called to relate her good news. “She offered me the job, stating that she felt a true bond between us!” 

Provision in God’s sovereign timing and with His wise placement.

I scanned over Isaiah 55 beginning at verse one. The second line states,

“Listen to Me, and eat what is good, and let your soul delight itself in abundance.”

How often had I yearned for responses to my prayers for the provision of a focused path in my writing?  Often, I felt like that little boy, determined to try a new experience without realizing I wasn’t prepared for what it would entail. I tried to pursue a consistent writing schedule, but my curiosity would lead me to jump from one idea to the next.  Write a devotion, develop a short story. Create character development and dialogue for a play.  Blog to inspire others, blog as a memoir. Blog but don’t post my unrefined meanderings.  Write to inform, apply my journalism background.  Research and write. Encourage and write.  I was towing too many things, stubbornly heading into a chaotic collision of ideas tumbling about me. 

Like the reuniting couple, had I fallen into a long-distance relationship with my writing? When I embraced an idea on my writing list, I felt like words would pour forth, unbounded and free. But when I stayed away from it, I wondered if writing was worth the effort and energy it required.  What would I need to give up so I could make this a lasting priority?

Continuing to Isaiah 55:3, “Incline your ear, and come to Me.  Hear, and your soul shall live.  And I will make an everlasting covenant with you —The sure mercies of David.”

I feel rescued by these words. As I read them, they shake together like pieces in a rain stick, coursing on a path I thought I couldn’t or didn’t dare follow. Like that airport couple coming together in sheer relief, I am embraced and enveloped in a moment of time when I know for certain that I will be safe in the steps I take in my writing. I will find strength in the bond provided by God. I will listen and I will delight in the abundance of writing ideas He provides.

I do believe that we often find ourselves placed in moments we need to experience as they unfold before us. If we see and hear what those moments may provide for us, perhaps we will

become aware to what we need to understand.  Perhaps we will recognize an unmistakeable bond, a covenant laid forth for us to accept. 

I offer to you, this reassuring word that seems to greet me each new day this year.

Awareness!

Become immersed in it.

Awareness!

Become intensified by it.

Awareness!

Become determined by it.

Let it open your ears to listen and to follow the messages presented to you.

Let it open your soul so you may delight in the abundance of mercy offered to you.

Awareness!

Let yourself respond within an everlasting covenant with God.

Swish! Awareness!

May you feel free to run into the embrace that awaits you.

As needed may you be scooped up and rescued so you may begin again.