The Most Powerful Naming

I was first named on January 19, five decades ago, without the letter e.

Just four letters. L - y - n - n.

A few weeks later my parents added the “e” so I would not be confused with boys with the same name, but they never bothered to legally make the change. They just penned it to documents without permission, letting me wander through my childhood without the government's approval to use another letter of the alphabet.

When I applied for my marriage license, the county clerk typed in an e without fanfare and without cost, validating my existence and proving, once again, the advantage of living in a small town.

To be named is the first basic element of a person. A symbol of welcome. Of belonging. Of family.

For more than fifty years I heard my name on my mother's lips, usually just the first name, Lynne, with an e. Like all children, I dreaded when the middle name was added, or all three of my names were strung together in one breath.

I miss the speaking of my name by my mom.

I miss the naming.

In Ephesians 1, the Apostle Paul, penned these words, "I do not cease giving thanks for you, while making mention of you in my prayers" (Ephesians 1:16).

More than the naming, I miss my name being mentioned in prayer. I always knew my mother prayed for me. This loss, I am still grieving.

But I am challenged to ask the question: Who do I mention in my prayers?

Who do you?

If I do not name my children, my grandchildren and others I love; if I do not lift them to the throne of God, who else is mentioning them in prayer?

This mentioning, this naming, is the most powerful. This naming must not be forgotten.