Part 1: An Unexpected Name

I wouldn’t say I was any sort of popular growing up.

I kept to myself, mostly.

There were really only two people I called close.

We had secret nicknames.

Small intimacies disguised as jokes.

Mine was Hannah Bear.

Silly, not particularly unique, but tender all the same.

A quiet term of endearment and the feeling of being known.

I was only a few weeks away from graduating high school

when the direction of my life shifted with out warning.

The art school I was meant to attend that fall

called out of the blue telling me my admission had been terminated.

No explanation. No opportunity for questions.

Simply, no longer welcomed.

It was too late to apply anywhere else.

Devastation doesn’t come close to what I felt in that moment.

Confused.

Lost.

Rejected.

Misplaced…

I skipped first period, locking myself in my car and crying

for the next hour in the school parking lot.

Then another call came through…

This time a family friend across the country.

He said there was an open spot for their summer internship.

He wanted me to come.

I hadn’t applied.

Hadn’t shown interest.

I didn’t even know it existed.

It was at a church…

I had often questioned the authenticity of modern Christianity,

reflecting on the existence of a relevant God.

Growing up in church, I had heard countless times

that God had a plan and a purpose for my life.

But I only saw Him as this far off, powerful being.

A distant creator of the universe,

not the creator of…me.

I had never considered myself significant.

The universe was vast.

Why would the details of my life matter in the grand design of it all?

And yet, this felt like something.

A divine interruption.

A door slammed shut after years of preparation, 

only to be followed by another door opening.

One I hadn’t knocked on.

One I hadn’t even been looking for.

Still on the phone,

I weighed my options.

It wasn’t as though I had many.

And I needed something to hold onto as the floor

seemed to drop beneath me mere moments ago.

Hesitantly, I agreed.

Not entirely sure what I was saying yes to, only that I

would now be moving to California a week after graduation.

A long ways away from Michigan.

And at the same time, maybe it was exactly what was needed.

When the internship began, I didn’t know what to expect.

Religion, church, God…

It had all been complicated for me.

What I knew, or rather, what I thought I knew.

What I believed in my head , versus what I felt in my heart.

I wasn’t sure how any of it truly related to me.

Or, more accurately, if it related to me at all.

But this became a season of questions, and for the first time

I wanted answers.

One morning, the interns gathered for prayer.

A couple of pastors were leading it.

Soft music drifted through the room and we were encouraged

to find a place alone.

I chose a row of chairs and sat in the middle.

Leaning forward into the chair in front of me, I lowered my head.

It created a small wall-like barrier.

A way to feel hidden in an honest attempt at vulnerability.

Out of all my questions,

I wanted certainty.

Certainty that God was real.

That a personal relationship was possible.

That maybe, just maybe, He could speak to me.

Was I important enough?

Valuable enough?

For the creator of the universe to meet with, now, in this moment?

With my head bowed.

Eyes fixed on the floor.

Hands resting on the chair before me.

I whispered:

“God, if You’re there…

I need to know…”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a pair of shoes.

One of the pastors had been walking slowly up and down

the aisle closest to me.

I had seen him pause just outside the row I was in more than once.

Finally, he stopped and placed a hand on my shoulder.

He leaned down and spoke softly.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,

And I feel silly saying this…

but I can’t help but feel that God is telling me to tell you…

that…He loves His…

Hannah Bear.”

Tears came instantly.

Uncontrolled and unstoppable.

I didn’t know this man.

He didn’t know me.

I had never mentioned that nickname to anyone here.

Clear across the country from anyone who knew me.

There was no way he could have known.

But God knew.

God knew the name I carried close to my heart…

The one of belonging.

The one of being known…

(To be continued…)