We feel good when we are remembered, a word of recognition for our efforts, an old friend we meet on the street, even a belated birthday card. It somehow connects us to the world, that we are not one of the billions of people on the face of this earth. That we meant something to someone. In one of the teachings this last week on the School of Humanitarian Work and Christian Formation, we were called to mind that a name is not just a name. It's not just a few random alphabets put together to sound nice.
When our names were called out at a lottery/ lucky draw, our name represents nothing to the person picking it out from the thousands of entries, our name only separates us from those who haven't won anything.
When a teacher calls our name, it may be for instruction, correction; the teacher's relationship with us may stop here. Years later, the same teacher may remember us in how we performed in class, how we interacted with other classmates.
When a close friend calls our name, he/she calls with memories of time spent together, the holidays, the discussions, the deep heart to heart sharings, the slumber parties, the long phone calls. Our friend understands us, with the limitation of time spent together.
We once had a dog, her name was Lassie. We had her when she was but a few weeks old. As she grew she learnt that when her name is called, it meant food, play, or walks. When she wags her tail, we know what she wants. When she looks a certain way, we know whether she was in pain, hunger, or she made a poopoo somewhere she was not supposed to. Even though we dont speak the same language, there is a certain understanding, a certain knowing. In many ways, it was a symbiotic relationship, she entertained us with her entics, and we fed her with affection that needed to be expressed in one way or the other.
When my granny was in her last hours, and she didn't recognise me. Dementia had set in and though I was her favourite grand-daughter, she simply can't recall my name.
At that moment, I remembered thinking that I had already lost her. There's no relationship anymore. I'm just another stranger sitting by her bedside.
It is our basic need to be recognised.
Here comes the amazing part. There is a person who, when he calls us, knows us, with all our trophies but also all our short falls. And yet still chooses to love us. A person who not only knows our past, but also our present and our future. The only person who knows and understands us because he was there when 'it' happen. When we bruised our knees the first time we learnt to cycle; the time our heart was broken by a significant other, the time we brought home the medalion after running the marathon, the time we passed the driving test, the time we sank deep and low... alone.
The infinite of Him who loves the finite us, is really incomprehensible. Unimaginable really. But why? how? It really doesn't matter. He just does.. He loves.
Thank you God for loving me, recognising me, understanding me.
2 comments:
Names are the most important words we know. That is why it hurts so when people make fun of our names. That is why we don't take the name of God in vain. That is the most important name of all. It is the last name I say before I go to sleep.
Such an eloquent and beautifully written post!
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