Friday, December 02, 2011

Thanksgiving...a little late: I have a name

On Thanksgiving morning I slipped into the church about 10 minutes late, thinking, "It's a good thing I did not offer to read scripture this morning!"  Not exactly a thankful thought, but I was glad to be there.

It was a small group, as is usual for a holiday service.  Katrina was at the piano and accompanied all the hymns, and had a very nice piece during the offertory.   When did she grow up?

On November 14 we welcomed our grandson, Charlie John, into the world.  I sat and watched Katrina play the piano and remembered the look on Chuck's face as Ben told us the baby's name.  Thankfulness was certainly in my heart.

Katrina's mother and sister were seated in front of me.  I remembered Katrina as a little girl sharing her music in church, as many children do.  I watched her mother as I thought about Ben and Andrea choosing little Charlie's name.  I remembered choosing the names of each of our birth children.  I thought of the parents of our adopted children, and how they must have pondered names as they waited for those precious babies to be born.  I thought of Katrina's mother choosing her name, my parents choosing my name, my grandparents choosing the names of their children.

The choosing of a name seems to be so important when you are looking forward to the miracle of a birth.  It is the first gift you give the child, and you want it to be right.  You want a strong name, a name that the child will carry proudly, a name that will not cause ridicule, but will hopefully give the child an idea of how amazing and miraculous she/he is. 

I wanted that.  My adoptive children's parents wanted that.  My parents wanted that.  My grandparents wanted that.

I looked around the group assembled there and it seemed like such a simple thing, yet so profound.  We have each been given a name full of hope and promise.  We have each been watched with curiosity to see whom we will become. 

I watched Katrina's mom as she watched Katrina.  I saw her joy in the talents of her daughter and I thought of the hopes and the joy I have with all of my children.  I thought of how each of them has developed, is developing.  I thought of the joy I have in them as they express their talents, overcome adversities, learn new things, continue to become who they are.

And I thought of God, who did not choose our name but who watched us grow inside of our mothers, who has numbered the hairs of our heads, and who knows our sitting down and our rising up and our thoughts from afar.  Maybe God also watches with joy, with curiosity as to whom we will yet become, and with hope that we will become our best selves, the miracles God has created us to be.