What's in a name?

Hi. I'm Leah, and I'm a recovering librarian. I am addicted to theoretical organization and order, but in reality, my stuff is everywhere. And I'm ok with that.

My dad, upon learning that his first child was on the way, decided that Obadiah would be a swell name. My mom decided that it would be wiser to get a dog, call him Obadiah, and nip that one in the bud. I don't *think* Dad would've pressed for naming rights when it was discovered that I am a girl, but... Nope. Leah. My mom says they liked the sound of my name. Leah Rebekah. That's me.

Nope. Leah. I don't recall having any positive or negative associations with my name until I heard the account of Leah from the Old Testament. I always identified myself with characters in books. I wanted to be like the demure, beautiful princesses who seemed to float through life in their flowing dresses, gentle curls softly drifting behind them, tiny toes peeking beneath ruffled hems as they danced through meadows, singing with the wildlife. Never angry, never clutzy, always saying the right thing and charming the cufflinks off passing princes, and never, ever sad except in a beautiful, somber way that would cause all the woodland creatures to dry their pearlescent tears with bushy tails. That was who I wanted to be. Nope. Leah.

The Leah of the Bible wasn't beautiful. She charmed the cufflinks very much ON the man who came to live with her family for seven years. It was her younger sister, Rachel, who had mice and birds to dress her in the morning. It was Rachel who had the grace and the beauty, and who won the heart of Jacob. It was Rachel who was worth seven years of farm work. But, at the end of the wedding... Nope. Alas, it was Leah. Alas... Leah. I realized that I wasn't the graceful princess; I was more like the oafish, temperamental, crass scullery maid, from whom the woodland creatures would run and hide. If I tried to dance in a meadow, the flowers would wilt. If I tried to sing with the birds,  squirrels would throw things. And the news must've gotten out to the princes, for none of them were passing by, regardless of cufflinks. Nope. Leah.

I always tried to get sick when my story was on the docket in school. Naturally, when a classmate's name is mentioned, everybody turns to look at them, and that classmate prays that they're the good guy in the story, not the one who eats the three little pigs or steals the protagonist's kickball, because you're GONNA hear about it at recess. But I always knew what was coming when my story was told. Leah was unloved. Unlovable. The pictures didn't help. You never had to ask which one was Leah and which was Rachel. The Leah in the pictures and I were actually pretty similar - stick-straight hair that wouldn't hold a curl to save it's life (I wonder if the Biblical Leah endured two home perms that did absolutely nothing, despite going to McDonalds with her hair in rollers?), a large nose (covered in blackheads, no doubt), plain, boring, out-of-fashion clothes (I truly believed red sweatsuits with black Scottie dogs embroidered on them were perfectly fine school wear until 7th grade), and unremarkable features (including eyebrows that could conceal several woodland creatures). Overall, I felt we both had better focus on developing "wonderful personalities."

I'm not saying none of this would have been an issue if I'd had a different name; in high school there were a number of Leahs who seemed complex-free. I wanted my name to conjure the images theirs did: Leah, the self-confident, artistic and cute; Leah, the petite, beautiful and trendy; Leah, the tall, lean and athletic. But I was Leah, the nerdy (this was before "nerdy" became "hipster"... or at least, it never did that for me), quiet, and slightly sweaty.

It wasn't until college that a teacher revealed the other side of the story: Leah's husband never favored her, but God did. God saw that she wasn't loved, and he gave her children. Ah, she thought, NOW my husband will love me more. Nope. *sigh* Leah. More kids? Yay! Now...? It was as if God were saying, "Nope. Leah. I love you. Jacob's an idiot." And that would have to be "enough" for her.

To further engrain The Leah Complex into my psychological development, right around the time this other side of the story was revealed to me, I was falling in love for the first time. I was wary, very wary, because I knew I wasn't the princess with the beautiful hair and perfect manners... or perfect anything. I knew that I was surrounded by stunning young women, who had actual wonderful personalities to boot instead of the crippling insecurities I thought MUST be visible to everyone who saw me. But for some reason, he chose to date me. I was petrified in his presence. I was afraid he'd see the woodland creatures scatter before me. So I didn't let myself out. I tried to be demure and perfect and I denied the existence of anything about myself that didn't fit my idea of ideal. The relationship was crap. He wasn't getting to know me at all. He could sense that something was amiss and therefore couldn't be himself either. So, inevitably, The Worst Thing that could happen to my guarded, walled-off heart happened. We broke up. I loved him, but I couldn't let him know that, not until I was a beautiful princess because I thought that was what he wanted and deserved. And, to top it all off, he started dating another girl, whose name was... Rachel. She was cute. She had great fashion sense. Her hair did what she told it to.

I struggled. A lot. For a year. Until one day I thought about Leah. Unloved by Jacob, loved greatly by God - not because of how she looked or acted, but because of grace. And shouldn't that be enough for me, too? Some days, no, it definitely wasn't. But God still loved me through my "scatter the woodland creatures" moods. He loved me as I made peace with my eyebrows, learned to be comfortable in my skin (and less-than-desirable fashion sense), called a cease-fire on the perms, and even grew into my nose. It took two years, but I gradually came to be comfortable with me as I was made to be, not the me I thought would be most attractive to the world. I had to throw my shoulders back and jut out my chin to say it sometimes, but God loved me, and that was more than I could ever ask for or deserve. I still had to cling to God when I saw That Guy walking arm-in-arm with Rachel. I still had to physically remove myself from windows so I wouldn't be tempted to time them when I knew they were headed out on a walk. I still had to make myself sit in the front of chapel so I wouldn't spend the whole service spying to see if they were holding hands or sharing a hymnal. And I still had to pray for forgiveness and contentment. A lot.

In God's inscrutable time, when I was ready to be Leah, everything changed. I've been married to That Guy for three years now. Our son is waking up in the next room, currently. My husband tells me every day how beautiful I am - and he's always looking in my eyes when he says it, not at my body. I know he thinks I'm physically beautiful, too, but the important thing is that he knows me better than that; he knows who I really, truly am... and he still loves me. The grace of God is reflected in my marriage. I'm a lot like the Biblical Leah: nobody's going to put me on a magazine cover or ask me where I got my shoes; but I am deeply, dearly loved. It's undeserved and sometimes underappreciated, but regardless of whatever other names I might have in this life, I get to carry God's name eternally.

Advent Devotions - The Jesse Tree

Isaiah 11:1 - A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.

This [no longer in print] set of devotions for the season of Advent stems [hee hee] from those words of Isaiah. The series of 29 Bible readings (designed for the longest-possible season of Advent) begins with Creation and goes up through the Nativity, focusing on God's promise of a Savior in prophecy and the lives of OT heroes of faith. We have often doubled up on some of the shorter stories to accommodate a season shorter than 29 days, and it is also possible to simply reference one story in another if time is very short (ie, in a classroom).

Each daily devotion has a Bible reference, a hymn suggestion, and a specific symbol to portray the story. My family has little felt ornaments for each symbol (pictured below), but you can print off pictures or omit the symbols entirely and still be edified by the journey from sin to Savior. The series is designed to start on the first Sunday in Advent and continue through Christmas Day.

Our Jesse Tree, with ornaments

1. (First Sunday) The Jesse Tree 1 Sam. 16:1-13; Isaiah 11:1. Hymn 23. Symbol: Jesse Tree banner or stump.
2. The Birth of Life Gen. 1:24-28. Hymn 237. Symbol: world
3. Adam and Eve Gen. 3:1-24. Hymn 378. Symbol: apple and snake
4. Noah and the Flood Gen. 6:11-22; 8:6-12. Hymn 429. Symbol: ark
5. Father Abraham Gen. 12:1-7; 13:2-18. Hymn 439. Symbol: tent and camel
6. Isaac and the Ram Gen. 22:1-14. Hymn 435. Symbol: agnus Dei (lamb)
7. Jacob and his Dream Gen. 27:41-28:22. Hymn 589. Symbol: Jacob's ladder
8. (Second Sunday) Symbol of Prophecy Isaiah 9:2-7. Hymn 47. Symbol: (advent) rose
9. Joseph and his Coat Gen. 37:1-36. Hymn 17. Symbol: coat of many colors
10. Moses and the Law Exodus 20:1-17. Hymn 286. Symbol: Ten Commandments
11. Blessing of Aaron Numbers 6:22-27. Hymn 332. Symbol: hand of benediction (two fingers)
12. Samuel and the Word of the Lord 1 Sam. 3:1-21. Hymn 283. Symbol: oil lamp
13. David 1 Sam. 16:14-23. Hymn 360. Symbol: harp
14. Symbol of Shepherds Psalm 23. Hymn 436. Symbol: shepherd's staff
15. (Third Sunday) Wisdom of Solomon 1 Kings 3:3-28. Hymn 4. Symbol: crown
16. Elijah and the Raven 1 Kings 17:1-16. Hymn 414. Symbol: raven
17. Elisha and Healing 2 Kings 5:1-27. Hymn 564. Symbol: hand of blessing (hand with dove)
18. Isaiah Isaiah 6:1-8. Hymn 11. Symbol: scroll
19. Jeremiah Jer. 31:31-34. Hymn 279. Symbol: Bible in heart
20. Nehemiah the Builder Nehemiah 13:10-22. Hymn 9. Symbol: church
21. Angels Hebrews 1:1-14. Hymn 35. Symbol: angel with candle
22. (Fourth Sunday) Zechariah and Elizabeth Luke 1:5-25. Hymn 13. Symbol: altar
23. Virgin Mary Luke 1:26-38. Hymn 24. Symbol: lily
24. Magnificat Luke 1:39-56. Song of Mary, p. 57. Symbol: Mary
25. Birth of John the Baptist Luke 1:57-80. Hymn 16. Symbol: baptismal shell
26. Joseph of Nazareth Matt. 1:18-25. Hymn 14. Symbol: carpenter's tools
27. Symbol of Bethlehem Micah 5:2; Matt. 2:1-12  Hymn 66. Symbol: Star of David
28. (Christmas Eve) Birth of Jesus Luke 2:1-20. Hymn 54. Symbol: manger
29. (Christmas Day) Christ our Lord John 1:1-8. Hymn 47. Symbol: Chi Rho