(M)y (N)ame

I've never liked it...even a little bit. Jeanice Lynlee Lott is the name my parents gave me. (M)y (n)ickname was supposed to be Jinni. I didn't like that either. In the early 1970s, when I was born, Jenni, Jennifer, Jenny, was all too common. Lots of times people misspelled it, which I hated. I hated having to tell people, "No, it's not Jenni/Jenny or any of the above." Worse than that, I hated that I didn't ever get to buy one of these neat personalized things because they only used Jenni or Jenny.

I remember that my Great Aunt Dot bought me a tan coin purse back in 1985 with the name Jenni on it. I took it as an opportunity to take back all that I'd lost by being given the name Jinni. I started spelling my name Jenni...how completely pompous was that? My parents had chosen my name and trampled upon their choice with combat boots. They made my name up as some in the South are wont to do. Jean was my paternal grandmother's name, Clarice was my maternal grandmother's name, smash 'em together you get Jeanice. Lyn was from my mother's name Linda and Lee was my dad's middle name and voila'. A completely unique name created by my parents and their vision for me to stand out from the sea of Jennifers/Jennis/Jennies but the truth was, I just wanted to fit into a nice neat pre-printed label. I didn't want to be Jinni/Jeanice or any of it. I wanted to call the shots on what my name would be. ...the horror!

I guess what makes this all the more a tale of woe, at least on my part is that this behavior/rejection was not only of my parents, but really also of God. He is the one that decides who gets to be our parents, which in turn is the deciding factor for what country we live in, what sort of lifestyle/socio-economic background we'll have. He determines all this without even asking us. For He is the blessed controller of all things...which he uses for our ultimate good--to draw us to him. How utterly and grossly arrogant of me to have changed my name, the spelling of it at least...and now it's too late to go back, or so it would seem.

Papa God, please forgive me for my contempt of the way You run things. You do all things well. You knew exactly what you were doing when you placed me with the family you gave me, the parents I have, the siblings, all this. I confess to you that i am not God, nor a god. I am your child, your servant. I will seek to honor you in all my ways because you are worthy of my life, my love, my all.