by Patricia Alderman

I was never the little girl who fashioned a veil out of a pillowcase to play bride. I wasn’t one to develop a folder with details of the perfect wedding, complete with swatches and color palettes. Sure, I wanted to get married, but I didn’t obsess over it, I simply worked the plan. High school, college, meet cute, wedding, baby, 30^th birthday.

It was a great strategy, but like so many plans made by me rather than by God, it didn’t happen in the timeframe I’d envisioned. Part of it didn’t happen at all. But I went on, enjoyed my work, had great friends, and made a life in which I was happy. Which was a pretty good place to be when I met the man with whom I would share my life.

One of the decisions I’d unconsciously made—should I ever get married—was to not take a man’s name. Maybe it’s because I waited until my 30s to marry, but I didn’t want to give up my name; it was a part of who I was. No one was more surprised than me when, just days before the wedding, I felt not only an overwhelming peace but a deep desire to share the last name with my husband. Days later, I felt the same peace when I legally changed my middle name to my maiden name. It felt right to tack on another name to honor the decision to become one.

It took a while before the name stopped sounding foreign to my ear, but in time it became as much a part of me as the name I was given at birth. There wasn’t a turning point where the name suddenly felt more natural, it was more of a gradual molding into something that just fit. Like the time it takes a new pair of jeans to lose their stiffness and become soft and familiar.

A dozen years later the name still fit, even when the marriage sadly didn’t. When the unthinkable happened and divorce seemed imminent, I had the briefest thought of going back to my maiden-now-middle name. But that’s what I couldn’t process—going back.

No matter the pain and disappointment I felt acknowledging the end of my marriage, everything in me still felt that I was moving forward. Forward into a frightening, sad, and uncertain life alone but forward, nonetheless. So, when I was asked if I wanted to revert back to my former name, I declined—much to the surprise of many people around me.

It’s not as though I was keeping my (married) name to make it less confusing for any children—we didn’t have any. (At least not this side of heaven, which is how I still put it, as a way of dealing with that particular grief.)

But just as my maiden name was a part of who I was, my current name—even though I no longer have a husband with whom I share it—is who I am. Who I’ve become, and who God has formed me into being.

As difficult as the ending was, I don’t wish to negate my entire marriage. I can’t fathom simply erasing the name of the person I’ve spent the last 15 years becoming. And yes, I realize we are all much more than a name but at some point, it goes way beyond one name versus another.

Most of us feel deeply acknowledged when someone we’ve recently met remembers our name. We feel seen and worthy of being known and remembered. When someone takes the time to ask me what variant of my name I prefer, I feel incredibly cared for. Like I matter enough for someone to pay attention to that detailed preference.

How much more seen we are when God uses our names to reinforce the intimate, complete knowing He has of us.

Be it the Shepherd who “calls his own sheep by name and leads them out” (John 10:3), or God telling Moses, “You have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name” (Exodus 33:17), or Jacob being comforted, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1)

When Mary was frantic after Jesus’ death, unable to find His body, she didn’t even recognize the Lord until “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’” (John 20:16a)

God knows us by name because we are chosen by Him and recognized not only for who we are, but for whose we are, and who He is helping us become.

I don’t yet know the purpose God has for this time in my life but now in my 50s, I still cling to His promise:  “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

God did not want divorce for my life, of that I am certain. Regardless, I am equally certain of His steadfast love for me. It’s from that love that He will continue to call me by name as I strive to live into His purpose for my life. It matters less whether it’s my maiden name or my married name. What matters most is whether I am obedient to respond.