Called by Name
Sometimes a story comes my way. It’s not about me. And then, somehow, it is. When I pay attention, a personal longing or loss—often yet to be named—flickers. And sometimes, flares. Which gets me thinking. Maybe this marvelous tale will kindle something in you.
Called by Name
For Aiden
(noun, Irish, meaning “Little Fire”)
Baby Aiden sits on a rug the color of embers,
snapped into a onesie
gray as a mourning dove’s wing:
a blue-eyed boy with stones for ears.
What about lullabies
and Mother Goose? Or incoming surf?
Will he ever thrill to applause,
hear a footloose puppy’s joyous arf?
And Aiden’s people, after tears
and surgical tubes, after the draining
and praying and waiting: what then?
“Aiden,” his mama calls, yet again.
A slow-motion blink, his gaze
turning pure flame, wide
toothless grin—he’s hearing, hearing
his name, his bold, beautiful, blazing name.
***
I’ve watched Aiden’s moment on video, over and over: the palpable flash of revelation—the child’s face, pure wonder!—then his whole body responding, exuberant, knees and hands padding forward.
Consider, for a moment, our names, inscribed on the hands of Christ.
If you’ve been reading this blog as well as the comments over the past few years, you will have encountered Aiden’s grandpa, a man who memorably names what moves him. He recently told me the long months of waiting and praying for Aiden have been good—in part, for the empathy gained, and for the hope of comforting others who are suffering. This family truly understands being called by name.
“What’s in a name?” Shakespeare’s Juliet asked.
Picture a certain garden, on Easter. Among the risen Rabbi’s first recorded words, one noun stands out: “Mary.”
Chosen. Known. Named.
What if the Savior calls our name today, and we hear it as if for the first time?
From the archives: You might also enjoy Gaiety . . . to Go
And Open Sesame
Baby’s ear Photo by Laura Ohlman on Unsplash
Flaring match Photo by Elia Mazzaro on Unsplash
Several years ago I watched a video of a toddler able to hear for the first time. His exuberant joy and the parents’ euphoria brought tears to my eyes. I wonder how long it took for the little boy to realize he had a name that others knew him by, a name that made him unique and gave him identity within his family? / How mind-boggling to consider that Jesus knows each one of US by name (John 10:3). And one day we will hear Jesus call our names! That will no doubt be a euphoric moment also! With this post, Laurie, you’ve inspired-through-anticipation a bit of that joy! Thank you, my friend.
Oh, how marvelous!, Nancy. Hopefully the boy’s parents had already taught him his name in sign language. And then to hear it, in their voices—how thrilling! It reminds me of the backyard scene in The Miracle Worker when Annie Sullivan pumps well water over Helen’s hands, then finger-spells w-a-t-e-r- across her palm, and, for the first time, Helen connects language with sensation. I get tears just typing about it. I’d originally included a nod to the scene, but fellow writers advised against it, saying most people today won’t know the movie and quite possibly have never heard of Helen Keller. Which makes me sad.
So glad, though, to give you and myself a glimmer of anticipation . . .
What a precious moment for them . Can only begin to imagine that feeling. Life’s reward.
Needed a positive boost this morning, thank you .
Dear Larry, yes. Precious is the word!
I am so glad to think of your spirits feeling lifted today by the story. Thank you for letting me know. May contagious joy flow from your empathy into the rest of your day.
I don’t know what to say.
Your involvement along with others is an encouragement, carrying with it a lasting significance to a name dear to our hearts, Aiden.
Thank you.
Letting mercy lead.
https://youtu.be/a1QqrOfO3E0?si=dsG27tAJkoymiKAq
It’s an honor to witness wonder unfolding: in a child, a family, a life trajectory. Long may mercy lead!
The song is so inspiring, so perfect, thank you for sharing the link!
Lessons of mercy.
Looking for it.
To be led by it.
Keep myself in it.
All my days.
Never did I imagine that I would be learning this lesson at a deeper level through the life of my six grandchild.
You’ve helped in this lesson.
Rick, I glimpse the long range view in your powerful phrases. Seeing your goal laid out so clearly stirs me to be more attentive and actively eager to be led, and learning, too, the ways of sustaining open-hearted-ness over a lifetime—(whatever span remains!)
Thank you!
Laurie, reading this brought me back to my time to this morning to my private with the Lord and the quiet chord I heard gently saying my name. The sweet music of our Lord and Savior Jesus draws me into that quiet intimacy with Him I need daily.
Dear Bev, thank you for your note. What a marvelous way to begin your day! I love that your ear perceives several notes, braided together, sounding within you, so beautifully resonant and reflective of the depth and texture a name — (and a life in Christ) — carry,: inwardly, first, then outwardly . . .
When I was 5 my best friend told me her name means princess. My name had no meaning, apparently, and if it did it could not possibly surpass princess.
I shrugged it off feeling the name neither made her a princess nor better than me.
The real miracle is that friendship can indeed overcome such obvious assaults.
A new name in heaven awaits me held in the mind of the Lord …already…I’m listening for it….
I suspect he has been calling it down here for a while even though I have no ears for it…yet.
Oh, thank you! This is an aspect I’d not considered when writing this post. Your comment invites me to also glance back in time, (yes, I have name stories) then ahead, in curious wonder, and then stirs me to inhabit “now” a posture of listening and waiting trust—for ears to hear the new name . . .