When I was pregnant, I spent my nights intently looking for names, rationalising every word, contemplating every search, and assessing my own reasoning – logically and theoretically. With the gender suspense came a cumbersome task of making two lists – one for a baby girl and one for a baby boy. To mitigate the efforts, I delegated one task to my husband – searching for a boy’s name was his job. Despite that, (well, I’m sure you know how a woman’s mind works!) I kept my search on for both, afraid that I might not like what he selects, and I was also worried that our baby would be nameless until we both agreed on one. And so, our quest went on for nine long months.
Christening ceremony is a one-day celebration, but the background process is a long one. Scanning through my pregnant facial changes (puffed-up eyes, swollen face, and cystic acne) and my sharp bulged-out tummy, most old ladies prophesied that I was going to give birth to a baby boy. Hearing this over and over again for a hundred and fifty odd days, I believed them. During one of our baby talks, we discussed the gender. My husband believes that a name should hold a story and not a fantasy. His dad named him Yasha (meaning – victory through the right hand of God) after their family was delivered from a series of unanticipated distressing circumstances. With this in mind, we didn’t want to pick any random name for our baby.
During my morning devotions, meditating on Kings, I was tired of reading through the Kings era. No wonder I hated history. I couldn’t fathom how people killed each other mercilessly. Just for the love of a throne, authority and power, there would be a succession of murders – somebody became king, and he would be killed by a person who wanted to be the next king. And so the series of killings followed. As I was reasoning with my husband one evening, I perceived that God wanted my little baby to become a warrior.
Over long sleepless nights and lots of debates, I chose two names for a baby girl, out of which we both liked and mutually agreed on one. And, yay! We were ready with a baby girl’s name. Task one fulfilled!
The tough task (baby boy’s name) was still at bay. We came up with our own lists but failed to reach an agreement, even when the baby was due any minute. It was upsetting. To avoid making our baby a Mr. Nobody, I unwillingly forced myself and half-agreed to one name (Mr.Somebody). Lol. When the day finally arrived, after a 36-hour long labour and excruciating pain, our tiny miracle popped out with a squeaky cry.
As soon as we came to know it’s a girl, we both looked into each other’s eyes while holding our precious little one and said – Liz Arlene. She immediately looked up, as if she already knew her name.
Here’s the meaning of the fulfilment of God’s promise of our tiny warrior: Liz – God’s promise, Arlene – powerful and complete.
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