::the power of names::


The fire flickers on Inspiration Point as I stand with my fellow Sierra Sisters facing a semi-circle of our SLS community. We listen to our unit leader, Christina, affirm and challenge us with what she has seen in each of us this summer. We each receive names as part of this closing ceremony. My name is Moonlight, given to me because I reflect the Lord's truth not in a flashy, bright way like sunlight but in a deeper way like moonlight. It fits me so well. Thanks, Christina. You saw me truly and named me aptly.

My beloved unit of Sierra Sisters
Names have power. We do not take the power of names as seriously in the 21st century as in olden times when people were very particular about what they named their child. If you were the III or IV, it indicated a great family lineage. If you were named after a saint, it was hoped that you would embody the characteristics of that special saint. Now we call people whatever we feel like. Sometimes with a namesake in mind, other times, it is just a name that sounded good. But there is an incredible power in names. There is a reason why people push back against nicknames, why name-calling is called out, and why names are changed when moving into new environments. Names define us. They tell about who we are, subtly and overtly. This is part of why I have always pushed back against the nicknames that numerous people have tried to give me over the years. I have had every single nickname that you can possibly make out of ‘Francesca’ and not liked any of them. ‘Franny/Fran/Chessie/San Francesca etc.’ all give me an identity that is not my own. Being called any of those feels like wearing the wrong sized shirt or pants that fit in the wrong places. They are not comfortable and are unlike me. So for anyone who has tried to give me a nickname sometime in the past 20 years, this is why I have said a hard and fast "no" to all of them.

A birthday present from one of my
said friends
But that changed this summer. The impossible happened. I acquired two different nicknames. How, I do not know but it certainly happened. However, I do know that I am now called 'Jemima' and 'Fresca' by two different friends. The origins of these said nicknames are still a mystery to me. I keep telling one friend that I am not a black woman who sells fake maple syrup and the other that I am not a citrus soda but for some reason they do not listen to me. Both of my friends were very persistent and very deaf to my denial of these nicknames. I reluctantly accepted both of them mostly because there was not much I could do about it. I love my friends dearly even if they do drive me a little crazy. But I understand that 'Jemima' and 'Fresca' are terms of endearment and signify friendship. My friends have given me these names because they love me, because they are goofballs and because these nicknames are now part of our friendship and I am okay with that. Also, because I can't shake them off. These nicknames force me to be out of my normal box, they allow me to laugh and to be goofy. They will always remind me of an incredible summer at HoneyRock and of friends and community that I cherish deeply. I have not yet figured out the power of the names, 'Jemima' and 'Fresca', but if you do, please let me know.


In all seriousness, I am reminded of the power of names, of what I call others, what I let others call me, the names that the world tries to call me and the names that God has given to me. The names of 'daughter', 'beloved', 'redeemed', 'forgiven', and 'mine'. What God names me is more important than any other name. The names that God calls me are my identity and who I am. So may I remember who I am in Christ because my name is graven on His hands and written on His heart. I choose the identity that He has bestowed upon me. I am His forever.
Saying goodbye to HoneyRock

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