Who I Am

So here it is... my name, Rachel, is of Hebrew origin meaning "Lamb."  Sweet, I know...  except that it also means "gift of God" thereby alluding to the connotation...  in Hebrew history, the cost of redemption was a lamb...  it was the sacrifice.

My initial intent was to dive into this thought farther but for some reason I am suddenly constrained...  Perhaps because I talked much of this through with 1 of my child-hood friends over the phone last week...  Perhaps I simply think it self-evident...  Perhaps a little of both...

Suffice it to say that I am making peace with who I am and that I no longer despise my compulsion to give myself to those whose friendship turns to resentment after I walk with them through tumult.  There are times when I have less to give than others -- such is the way of life, sometimes we are small and other times mighty.  Regardless, I keep open my heart and what I have/am I give.  I can no more choose to NOT to give myself than I can choose to not freckle in the sun.  I am still that girl who, without question, gives her warmest blanket to the boy she knows she'll never see again that found the room he thought he had secured at school was given away.  I simply don't know how to NOT be that girl and I am finding that she is more rare than I realized.

In the midst of my musings, I really can not fail to mention that now & then someone comes along that chooses to stay even if it costs them a great deal and even if I could lift easily out of their life.  Those individuals are few but they make the journey of life joyous and they remind me of who I am and who I was meant to be and who I can finally say that I CHOOSE to be...  My name is Rachel...  Song of Incense is who I am...

For what it's worth...

We had a saying at Bress Pawn when I worked there & someone would come in asking to pawn their jewelry for extremely high prices "It's only worth what someone will pay for it."  I believe this principle to be true in all areas of life: particularly relationships.  One must understand that we engage in relationships constantly.  Some of these are fleeting, like the guy driving the car we just passed or the security guard at city hall; others matter.  There is a cost to everything...  there is a price and often we don't know the cost others pay to keep us in their lives.  


Earlier I mentioned that I tend to choose my friendships by active, conscious decision.  Once I've made that decision, I'm all in.  There are a few friends that know how fiercely loyal I can be and how tenaciously I can love...  Many tend to think this is easy, that it is just a personality trait; that would suggest there is no cost involved therefore no worth.  That is qualitatively untrue.  Everything has a cost...  that one can put on a smile & hide a price tag does not negate this truth. 


So...  what, then, IS the cost of love?  Of friendship?  For me, the cost is myself... 


My inclination is to qualify that statement with the how's & why's, however, I realize that will change from person to person so will let it stand bereft of apology...  The cost of love & friendship is self.


Ok, so here is where I start pulling it all together...  we have been talking about the power of my name over my life, remember? ☺

Watch them walk

So here I am standing, for the most part, alone.  Very few of the friends I actively chose are still with me...  In fact, can count those remaining on 1 hand even tho I have walked through fire with many.

A few years ago I watched someone very dear to me that I had stood by during circumstances she wasn't even aware existed choose to walk away from me over imagined insult.  I sought to mend our friendship & found myself openly, publicly shunned.  Heartbroken, I sat on my couch 1 afternoon & prayed 1 of those prayers...  you know, the type "What did I do?  Why so much animosity?  Do I really have to do this?"  During that conversation I felt God's voice say simply "It is enough."  In that moment something inside me changed.  A sense of peace as profound as any I've ever felt before came over me & I knew I could let go and watch her walk away.

Since that time I have not been compelled to hold on to anyone that choose to walk away from me... not even the husband that I had chosen to love for life.  It is painful to watch, I admit, but it is no longer exhausting...  

I am unsure why I needed to tell this story.  I believe, though, that it relates to my examination of my name & it's power over my life...  bear with me...  If it fits in then we will get there.

Intercession

So, here I am, pushing 40, suddenly single, raising 5 children, back in school with the help of my mom & sisters...  completely starting over in life...  It breeds more than a small amount of introspection.  I start to examine patterns: not mine only but those of the people with whom I surround myself.  I refuse to regret the woman I have become, I like her... she's strong & determined but refuses to become hard-hearted; still, there is much hurt & disappointment in my story...  I must examine it...

I choose people.  When I make a friend it is an active, conscious decision.  As I gaze back on the people I have chosen I can't help but notice a very sharp lack of presence.  The first thing I do, obviously, is try to remember what happened.  Why aren't the people that I chose & stood by & often even carried through very difficult seasons in their own lives starkly absent from mine now?  The most prevalent answer is that we simply lost touch.  Life changes & evolves, distance makes getting together problematic, it happens & people that were once daily fixtures simply aren't anymore.  But that is not the only reason: there are those that chose to walk away... more than I could have ever guessed in the season of our friendships.

You have to understand, I am a giver.  Not in the typical oh-this-made-me-think-of-you-so-I-got-it-for-you way although that happens.  But in the you-are-having-a-hard-time-so-I'll-see-you-through-it kind of way.  This usually manifests itself in emotional support of one type or another and I've been accused of being an enabler more than once as usually I am standing against small-mindedness or judgement.  You see, I was the runt on the playground that saw the 1 kid out there getting picked on & planted myself between the bully & the victim, even if I didn't know either party.  This meant I often was bullied & ridiculed myself.  Honestly, it never bothered me as long as I was taking it on someone else's behalf, that said, I can not say I've ever been good at standing up for myself... but that is another subject entirely...

Where was I?

Oh, yes... giver... anti-judge... emotional support...  What I choose in my relationships is to stand in the gap...  I choose this not to be a martyr but because I believe people have value & deserve to be genuinely cared about.  I believe the people I care about to be worth fighting for even if it means I take a stand in the midst of my peers or those bigger than I.  I find this so compelling that I have never been able to choose not to do it... I see someone hurting & something inside me is moved & I can feel what they must be feeling.  This is not weakness.  I have come to embrace my empathatic nature as my most ardent strength.

I am also a peace-maker.  Not only amongst my friends but when someone takes issue with me.  I have always been the one to seek out reconciliation, even if I was not at fault, because I absolutely believe people are worth fighting for...  I have never found it difficult to say I am sorry if I at fault nor do I hesitate to try to find common ground when I am not.  Either way, I've always been one to try to find a way to mend a severed friendship.  Remember, I chose my friendships by an active, conscious decision.

Yet, I stand alone now... why?  I have been examining the power of my own name...  I have not gotten off-topic...

My Name Is Rachel

Those who know me for any length of time at all tend to discover early that I have a thing about names. I am of the mindset that a persons name reveals much of who they are. I will not use this post to delve into the means by which I believe that happens; today I am examining my own name & it's influences within my life, of which I am only now, at 39, becoming really aware... Maybe it's therapy, I don't know, but it has been stirring within me for several months & I can't get away from it so I need to put it somewhere. I choose here, in the relative anonymity of my blog-o-sphere...

My name is Rachel...

I grew up, like most young Americans of a Christian upbringing, hearing the story of Jacob & how after meeting a young shepherdess he worked 14yrs for Laban, the father of that shepherdess, Rachel. It seems Jacob's love for the girl was immense & he chose her from the first moment he laid eyes on her but Laban drove a hard bargain & must have recognized how bright a torch Jacob carried for his young daughter for he managed to secure 7yrs of labor from Jacob on the promise of Rachel's hand. We all know the story, right? At the end of the 7yrs Laban gave Leah, Rachel's older sister, to Jacob rather than Rachel. Laban must have been quite proud of himself, knowing he had the upper hand, and managed to convince Jacob to contract for 7yrs more for the hand of Rachel. That's 14yrs... A long time to wait to make the woman he loved his own. What an incredible love story. Right? We also know that the 2 sons born to Jacob by Rachel seemed to be favored above those born to him by Leah & that when Rachel died Jacob mourned her bitterly for the rest of his life... This is what it is to be a Rachel. It is to know the love & loyalty of a man so completely that he would pay extraordinary prices to claim her... I grew up hearing this story & because I shared the name I identified with Rachel. To be a Rachel is to be chosen... right?

Except, I wasn't... ever, really...

I am not the girl that inspires grand romantic gestures like in the story above. Shoot, I'm not the girl that even inspires a romantic dinner. In fact, the only times I've ever even received flowers has been along with apology notes and not the "sorry I couldn't make it" type of apology but the "sorry I slept with your best friend" type. So then, how is it fitting that my name is Rachel? Rachel was chosen and I have never been... Even by those that I had chosen or who by those that claimed to have done so. How do I reconcile the disappointments of where my life has led to my belief that one's name gives key insights into their life and personality? I gave up trying.

A funny thing happens when you stop chasing/searching for a thing. It often finds you.

I've always know that the name Rachel is of Hebrew origin and means lamb. Sweet. Right? Then I took a look at the connotation... that's when it started to get interesting...

Starting Over

Over the next few days I will be starting over with my little blog here... Seems appropriate as I am in the process of starting over with life in general... my name is Rachel... Song of Incense is my identity...