When I married almost eleven years ago, I was very excited
to take my husband’s name, to be identified with him and to let the whole world
know that Meade and Mary Elizabeth are a unit.
However, having a southern, double name, I was faced with
a predicament. Which of my names would I
drop? Maybe it was youth or naiveté, but
I decided to heed the advice of someone who claimed that a person could really
only have three names, that it was much too complicated to have four names on
official government forms, employee documents, and the like. (Which is pretty hilarious in its own way now,
considering the lack of paying jobs I have had in the past eleven years!) Therefore, I felt I had no choice but to drop
my maiden name, Warren. After all, I
could not give up Mary or Elizabeth. My
family was supportive, and life went on… now as Mary Elizabeth Stone.
As most of you know, Meade and I were thrilled to welcome
our identical twin boys, John and Warren, a few years later in January of 2009. We were smitten with them and with the names
we had lovingly selected for them, although we let about 24 hours pass before
assigning the names to each child.
William “Warren” was named for my father (and grandfather, brother, and
other family members on both sides). I
cherished being able to honor my father in this way and to have a child to
carry on this rich legacy of faith, character, and devotion. I have always been grateful for my family of
origin, and it felt fitting to utilize my maiden name in such a special
way.
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| WCW and WWS |
We were devastated when Warren went home to be with the
Lord at only 19 days “new,” and even more devastated (if possible) to find out
a month or so later that his death was caused by a medical error rather than his underlying condition. Grief is always complicated, but this just
felt like too much to bear. A gaping, torturous hole was left in our hearts,
newly acquired minivan, and home set up for twins; we may not have made it if
it were not for sweet "John" Meade.
John, 4.5 months old
For those of you who have experienced grief and loss
(which is each one of us, being human and living in a broken world), you understand
that the grieving process is truly a process. It is not endured only to be conquered, once
and for all. It comes in waves, cycles, bursts, surprises, routines, holidays, and
anniversaries. In a sense, grief takes on
new life with fresh and even joyful experiences, such as the pregnancy and
birth of a new child or moving to a new home yet leaving another behind that
held precious memories you fear will now forever be water under the bridge.
Oftentimes, we must get through the initial crisis in any
way we can (usually with the prayer, help, and support of many loved ones) before
we can truly engage with these other complex facets of grief that remain or
seemingly pop up out of the blue. Before the deep and enduring realities of
loss settle in.
“I don’t
think any of us can tell our most vulnerable stories in the moment they occur
for fear that they may undo us. We have
to wait until we are in a season of safety before we can open up our deepest
wounds…
Perhaps like
Mary after the birth of Jesus, I had needed to ponder these things in my heart,
wrestle with them, and offer them to God before I offered them to anyone else.”
One of these deeply painful layers for me was that I lost
my name and this special honoring of my father when we lost our son. Of
course, I realize that Warren is not lost to the Lord, that we still have a son
named William Warren and always will. But, the grief of not having that little
boy with that specific name here and now presented an additional grief burst
after the early trauma and tears had subsided.
I was sick over this and even wrote a letter to my dad
explaining my anguish…. for him, for me, for us all. Additionally, I was distraught that my own name
no longer contained “Warren.” Well, in
this life, there are certain things that we can
do something about – and changing your name is one of them!
As we discussed in What’s in a Name, Part 1, there
is power and significance in a name. As
we observe from the Bible, names can speak life and healing. We also see how
names can be amended or changed (for example, Simon to Peter or Saul to
Paul). Names are a chief source of
identification and worth, a way we imitate our Creator God. Moreover, a name can serve as a way to
remember – a banner we give our children, for example, to proclaim what the
Lord has done in our families and how He has carried us through different
seasons.
Approximately two years after Warren’s death, I made the
choice to break the random, self-imposed, three-name maximum rule and to engage
the lengthy, yet empowering and healing, process of adding Warren back into my
name. I will never forget walking down
the steps of the Virginia Beach courthouse that day, with official, signed
documents in hand. I felt more “myself,”
more whole and complete in some way. I had done something about my grief,
something that wasn’t necessarily convenient and certainly not quick. However, in the effort and process of
becoming Mary Elizabeth Warren Stone, God delivered a significant piece of my
healing. I was once again honoring my family that so lovingly raised me but,
more significantly and for the first time in this way, I was getting to honor
my precious son a couple years after we ushered him into the arms of
Jesus.
I still smile and swell with pride, the positive, freeing, hopeful kind,
whenever I think of my name, my son Warren, and the impact he has forever made on my life and for God’s
Kingdom. I see my “new” name as an ebenezer,
a marker of one of the many ways God has given me significant pieces of healing
along the way. A sign of hope that
additional healing will keep on coming for us all (See: Let Them Eat Cake).
“It is only in releasing ourselves, giving
ourselves fully over to the pain, and riding its cleansing wave that we find
new life…
It’s okay to feel it. It’s okay and it’s necessary, it’s holy and
good work.”
I am incredibly grateful
we serve a God who enables us to actively partner with our grief. To truly make beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:3). With our King and in His economy, life always comes from death. We do not have to fear that the grief may
overtake us if we lean into it and when we certainly feel overcome by it…
wondering what, if anything, will remain.
Instead, we can lean in with hope, trusting that, despite the depths of
our mourning, we will never be lost to God.
Not even the greatest loss can snatch us out of His hands. As we lean into our grief and take an active
role, we are given beauty and meaning that serves as a healing balm for our
hearts. Grief doesn’t need to be swept
under the carpet to eek out its days, hidden yet very much alive in its original, raw, and
incredibly painful form. Instead, the darkness can
be faced and then, through time and God’s grace, transformed into pure glory (2 Corinthians 4:17).
“But He knows the way that I take;
when He has tested me, I will come forth
as gold…
I am not silenced by the darkness,
by the thick darkness that covers my
face.”
-Job 23:10,17
Stone family does Staycation Labor Day weekend! Cabela's and Waffle House... obviously.
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| John is now 7.5, Daniel is 5, Andrew is 2.5, and Michael turns 1 on the 11th! |
Stay tuned for: A Forever Name (What’s in a Name, Part 3)
This is a beautiful post, Mary Elizabeth. When Warren passed, I noted and grieved the loss of that name for you, too. How wonderful to read about your recovery of it, here. Thank you for sharing.
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