Nanook

The other day my mom and I were sitting at the dinner table. My computer was in front of me and I was working on my blog. I was thinking about the title and playing around with different word placements. I was actually a little frustrated because I couldn’t think of a catchy, attention grabbing name for my blog. I was trying to make connections between my name and the blog and wanted a deeper understanding of how my name came to be. I asked my mom to tell me every detail she could remember.

I’ve heard it several times before. My dad’s name is Harrison and he wanted to call me Karrison. My mom didn’t like the name Karrison and my dad suggested the name Karris. My mom said okay. It was a simple story. But this time her response was something I had never heard before.

“Your father wanted to call you Karrison, but I was afraid people would call you Kerosene. We went days without choosing a name for you. Almost five days to be exact. It took us so long to choose a name that a nurse wrote “Nanook” on a piece of masking tape and placed it on your bed. The nurses called you “Nanook” because they said you looked like an Eskimo. When your father came up with the name Karris, I wasn’t comfortable with that name either. Karris was a strange name. I never heard it before. It was different. It was weird. It didn’t sound like a real name. I was talking with your grandmother at the hospital and told her about the name Karris. She said she would find out what it meant. I can’t remember if she called on the phone or came to the hospital, but she told me it was a Greek word and had a biblical meaning. I don’t know if we talked about the meaning of Karris (grace), but I remember feeling good about the name because it had a biblical reference.”

In my forty years (almost forty-one years) of life I’ve never heard the intimate details of how my name came to be. I didn’t know it took almost five days to decide on my name. I didn’t know the nurses called me “Nanook” and I didn’t know so much thought went into what my name would be.

When I think about the meaning of my name and how much thought went into it, I’m reminded of Jeremiah 1:5.

Just like God knew Jeremiah before he was formed in the belly, God knew me. He knew what my strengths and weaknesses would be. He knew all about my failures and successes. And just like Jeremiah was sanctified (set apart) to be a prophet to the nations, God set me apart too! Like Jeremiah, I struggle with confidence and feelings of inadequacy. I don’t feel up to the calling God placed on my life. Sometimes I feel so unworthy!

Before I was formed in my mom’s belly, God knew me. Before I camest forth out of my mom’s womb, He sanctified and ordained me for a purpose. I’m capable of doing everything that God asks of me today because He created me. And God doesn’t make mistakes!

My grandmother’s name is Grace, my sister’s middle name is Grace and my name means Grace. The legacy and promises of God’s grace, His “unmerited favor”, has been with me since the day I was born.