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Courage

Last Names are for Cowards

by Sarah Markley  •   Mar 23, 2011  •   57 Comments  •  
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I grew up alliterated.

Sarah Siebert was my name before I got married.

I never really LOVED being two S’s so I hesitated to use my last name unless it was necessary.

But in junior high and high school when there were multiple Sarahs in my tiny Christian school graduating class, I’ve always been mortally afraid that when I called a friend on the phone {WELL before any of us knew what texting was} they’d say

Sarah WHO?

Sarah Siebert, I’d answer frowning. Nervous, I’d already rehearsed what I was going to say to the other person on the phone, but I wasn’t ready for SARAH WHO?

So I began to use my last name all the time because I was scared of the SARAH WHO answer on the other end of the dial tone. I wasn’t just Sarah, I was Sarah Siebert. It preempted any feelings of embarrassment when the other person did not recognize my voice or expect my call.

Even when I got a new last name fourteen and a half years ago, I still used my last name with everything.  When I call someone, when I send an email, my blog address…

It’s all tied to my last name. I’m pretty sure I have a fear of not being recognized.

Now, we all have each other programmed into our phones, first and last. And there is usually no need for a, “Hi, this is Sarah Markley.” I’ve gotten out of the practice of feeling as if I needed to explain who, in fact, I really was. I’ve also gotten out of the practice of distinguishing myself from other Sarahs, other wives, other women. I am just who I am.

Rumbling under the surface always is the need for recognition. Not the fame-type of recognition. But the kind where someone that I care about knows me.

She sees me across the crowd in a room full of people and waves me over to sit.

He’s brought me my coffee without even asking for my order. He just knows.

She sends me a package in the mail with my favorite homemade cookies protected in bubble wrap.

But the best of the best is when someone has been waiting for me. They’ve been expecting my call.

It’s me, I say.

I’m so glad it’s you, she replies. I’ve been waiting for you to call.

A good friend who’s been ready for my call does wonders for my soul. But there is also One who created my name, first and last, has written it on the palms of His hands and has expected me from the beginning of time.

He recognizes me. He has been waiting for me. And with Him, I don’t need to use my last name.

Do you feel recognized? Have you ever felt unrecognized or unexpected? What does it make you feel like to know God expects you every time?

By Sarah Markley



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