Family Life

10.15.09 | Sandy Brownlee | Comments[0]

I've never been crazy about my name. My birth certificate reads "Sandra Gayle Wiles." Sandy Gayle.  Sounds like a windstorm. To my mind, it's a common little name - nothing extraordinary about it. I mean, in a family tree that boasts names like "Wilda" (my mom)... Alma... Marticia... Judea... Ambrose... Glenna - in the middle of all that, somehow I end up with a stubby sounding little name like "Sandy."  Even "Sandra" never seemed like much of an improvement.  Why couldn't it be musical like "Cassandra" or regal like "Alexandra?" Nope.  It's just an ordinary name.  I would say ordinary fits me, but...

I know this may sound kind of sappy, but when Jesus calls my name - "Sandy" - it's not common anymore. When Jesus speaks my name, calls me His own, I'm not common anymore.  Yeah, sappy, I know - but that doesn't mean it's not real.  I mean, think about it - the One who is named King of all creation, the One who holds time and space - all that is and ever will be - He has written my name on the palm of His hand. My name carved into the palm of His hand, imprinted on His heart, woven into His plans. When I think of it that way, my name becomes something new, transformed.  "Sandy" means "I am loved."

Funny how a Sharathon can stir thoughts like this up.

Go ahead, call me Sandy - I don't care.  I am loved.