Things I have run from and why I am stopping.... Number 1.. My real full name is Miriam. Still call me Mims... only my brother and a hand full of others call me that...

So a fact I some what keep away from the public ... My full name is Miriam.  Today as I journeyed through what this crappy day held.. yes, I said crappy.  It is very interesting what emerges as one lays down and says, "Father, what does it look like to get up from this place?"  "What in this place does it look like for you to Father me?"

His response... "Are you ready to say good-bye to fear?"


"Uhm... would love to... how do we do that ?"


Totally wasn't expecting what came next... "Let's start with your name!"


I love my name, Mims.  There is a great story to it. Oh side note that wasn't the name He was talking about and I knew it quite quickly.


So as much as I love my name, Mims, I hate my name, Miriam.  Basically my brother sort of gets away with calling me that but it is truly because I only see him once a year at Thanksgiving.


I've hated my name for lots of reasons....  Primarily, Faye Strumwasser.  My mother's mother, and to call her "nana" or "grandma" would so taint that beautiful title that I simply have given myself permission to call her Faye.  She would speak my name in this wicked witch of the east type way and it stung my ears for too long to remember.  OK... healing for that.


I don't "feel" like a Miriam.  I soooo feel like a Mims.  Mims to me is creative, joyful, hopeful, bright, intelligent.. Mims is me:)  Miriam, well the meaning is "bitter" or "rebellion."  Seriously could it get any worse. (Side note please don't take offense at any of this if your name is Miriam. Tongue in cheek for me.. it is a beauuuutifulllll name... for you it can be... for me it hasn't been.)


But this afternoon it became important to my Father.  I've been asking Him all day to Father me and He starts with my name.  I wanted something more like a burning bush, a moment like the transfiguration, or you know the moment when the Heavens open and His voice audibly speaks, "This is my daughter in whom I am pleased."  Nothing big. Right?!?


But then I got it.  It was let's start with first things first.  In the beginning He made things.. and He caused them to be named.


When we lived in New Hampshire we lived right down the street from a partial retirement facility called Bitter-Sweet.  That summed up life there too.. It was bitter and it was sweet.


He started with my name but as to be expected from Him, He went so much further.. and no you may not now call me Miriam... "You have known the bitter, now you will know the sweet."


He kept speaking and then I saw this smile cross His face. "Look it up."


"What?"  Was my reply.


"Look up the meaning of your name."


I was going to argue with Him, because, you know, I know the meaning... "bitter" and "rebellion."  Thankful  for His patience and persistence....  I saw this one website listed the title of the article was "Miriam: tambourines of rebellion."  I do not play the tambourine, and there again... the word, "rebellion."


"Read it.  You have known the bitterness.  Now you are called to know the sweet. This is how I see you." And as I did I wept and wept and wept...


http://www.chabad.org/parshah/article_cdo/aid/248870/jewish/Miriam-Tambourines-of-Rebellion.htm


This article concludes with these words and then I understood the blessing in my name.. I have known bitterness but now it is time to know sweet!

"Engulfed in misery, the women did not lose their vision. Mourning their murdered children with their feminine sensitivity more keenly than any of their male counterparts possibly could, the women found the strength to fortify themselves not to lose hope.

The women found meri, Miriam's spirit of rebellion. They would rebel against depression that would have been a natural outgrowth of such circumstances. They would rebel against apathy. They would rebel against hopelessness.

Amidst their agony, the women prepared tambourines. They fanned the spark of yearning within their worn souls until it grew into an overpowering, inextinguishable flame of faith.

As bitter as their lives became, their faith grew stronger.

Certain beyond a shred of doubt that their G-d would remember them, their only concern was being adequately prepared to sing with the appropriate expressions of joy for the miracles that were sure to occur!

This was the strength of Miriam. A feminine strength born out from bitterness; a faith sewed amidst despair.

This was the strength of the women who left Egypt, equipped with tambourines and dances of joy and faith.

And this is the strength of all women."