new name

Not just for my blog, but I now -legally- have a new name. Names are funny things -- in a lot of ways they define you, they dictate who you are and where you come from. Last names bring with them traditions, memories, and ways of doing things. Baby names are often given based on what they mean, in hopes that good things will come for their child. God often changed peoples names to signify a change in them that He has brought about or will bring about.

I'm an Elizalde now.
A wife. A new family. A new culture.

But, awkwardly, at the same time my name changes, Javi has to go back to Mexico and I'm here living as if I were still single. I've never understood people that complain when their husbands go out of town - I've always thought "get over it. you've lived this long without him. you're still your own person". In some ways there's truth there - but in other ways that's wrong. There's a unity in a marriage, intimacy, a deep "knowing" of another person. Daily life is new and there is a freedom to be completely you in a way I've never understood as an outsider looking in. So, in a way, as you learn from the other, you learn about yourself because you continue to grow and change. And all of the sudden, you're different. You're new. You have a new name.

Yet

I'm still Michelle. I'm still an individual. Javi does not "complete" me. I have my likes and dislikes. Things that stir my soul for Christ. Things I can do in solitude. Books to read, music to dance to, friends to laugh with, food to cook. My longings for my husband while he's away are not to define me or make me feel "less" but are to remind me that everything is temporary. Even marriage is not eternal.

I have a Husband who does complete me. One who never sleeps, always hears, and will never leave me. One who will one day be with me face-to-face. And even now I see Him dimly, I hope and long for the day when He will come back to me and take me with Him.

You've taken my pain and called me by a new name
You've taken my shame and in its place, You give me joy
You take my mourning, turn it into dancing
You take my weeping, turn it into laughing