The Big A
Can you get any further from a Christian name than being named after a pagan goddess?
I think not but ... Mum called me Diane "because it was pretty."
"The huntress" was pretty cool, but luny/lunar was not an image I was shooting for. Mum was saddened and diasppointed by my critique.
Over the years I realized it wasn't my name I didn't like, it was me. I just couldn't seem to measure up to my own expectations. A name wouldn't change who I was. I tried trading in my self-value for being valued by others, thinking service would give me the value, the love I sought but I became more and more invisible, even to myself.
My name was the least of my identity issues. Over years of struggle and invisibility my motto, became: "Who cares anyway?" I didn't. Even God seemed indifferent.
Being invisible is a place of nothingness. Boundaries are nonexistent.
I assumed that taking care of everyone else would not only increase my value, but would also make me happy. My lack of fulfillment became everyone else's fault. They should appreciate and help me (like I was helping them)! Frustrated, I blamed, judged, and projected; wondering why we couldn't just love each other into being better people.
My dysfunction continued to spiral downward. Who knew "bottom" had a basement?
I thought Celebrate Recovery might help. If I connected with other folks who knew they were broken too, I might find the key ... For the first time in my life, I bumped up against something called boundaries. This field of needy people had boundaries! I was incredulous. How could I be so old and not know about boundaries? It was a wonderful idea, elusive, but wonderful.
It took twelve years to accept that God had, indeed, drawn lines for me (boundaries) in pleasant places. (Ps 16:6) All these years I had thought He was like me and that His selfless love was weak and wishy-washy, aka: boundary-less. It breaks my heart to think that I had judged even Him.
How could He love, truly love, someone as broken as I?
The hardest lesson of all was to pray for His help to love myself.
Over the years, I began grow a new heart and a new identity. Hope seeped in through the cracks. Earnest Hemingway said, "We're all broken. That's how the light gets in." I'd like to add, that's also how the light gets out.
Coming full circle, I found myself, once again, praying for a new name. God could do it without making Mum mad, right? He can do anything!
One day, in the car, He gave me The Big A. DiAne: di-2 an - grace.
Two Graces. I have to have grace for myself, then I can have grace for others. My new name is a continual reminder for me, and is often the first thing on my daily gratitude list (and equally as often on my prayer list!)
My mom is still a wee bit upset about the change in my name, but the last letter I got from her, she did put in the Big A.
God is good!