Just Call Me...Brooke

     A friend once asked me, "If you could change your name to any name of your choice, what would you change it to? Or would you change it?" An extensive list of names paraded through my thoughts.  As a child, my list of favorite names was of the plethora breed.  Unlike many little girls my age, my dolls' names never stuck.  They changed constantly.  I think the longest lasting name stuck for a few months...maybe.  It was not unheard of for my dolls to have their names changed a couple times a day, though, typically, they lasted for a week or two.  I used to wonder if I would ever be able to settle on a name for any of my real-life children, when I grew up.  No, seriously, that was a real worry of mine.  Ahh! For the days when that was all I had to worry about. 

 

     What would I change my name to if I could? Would I change my name? I pondered the thought for a few moments.  If I could choose any name I wanted, long or short, common or unique, meaningful or poetic? Would I change it?  All those lists of random names I used to slap together creating the most unusual words.  Would I change it?

 

     No. I don't believe I would. 

     'Brooke' doesn't have much meaning per say.  It quite simply means 'brook', perhaps spelled a differently, but meaning the same.  Yet, wrapped up in that small word, with its simple meaning, is a lot of beauty.  Within it, are many small reminders of the type of person I long to be.  One of my favorite quotes illustrates my meaning quite well.  Anne of Green Gables declared:

 

   "I can hear the brook laughing all the way up here.  Have you

you ever noticed what cheerful things brooks

are? They're always laughing.  Even in wintertime.  I've heard them

under the ice."

 

 

     Laughing Water.  Something my parents named me.  Laughter. Something I want to be known for.  Water. Something that gushes with joyful, exuberant, genuine laughter. 

 

     Anne had it right, brooks are such cheerful things.  Always laughing. Even in the wintertime.  I want to be like that. I want to find the joy in life even during the winter times in my soul.  In those days that feel bleak.  In those days that feel black.  In those days that feel bitter.  It's in those days especially, that I want to find something warm, something gold, something sweet.  And it is in those days, more than anything else, that I want to find something to laugh about.  Because, as child of King Jesus, there is never a lack of things to be joyful about.  I don't want to be like a Brooke. I want to be like a brook. ;)

 

     Another one of my favorite passages comes from the book Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard, and I believe it also helps illustrate my point. In the beginning of this allegory, poor, crippled Much-Afraid, having the seed of love planted in her heart, is just beginning the long journey to the High Places with the Good Shepherd.  And so continues the following:

 

     As the Shepherd lifted Much-Afraid across the slippery, wet stones she said to him, "I do wish I knew what it is that all running water sings.''

  

     "Sometimes in the silence of the night I lie in bed and listen to the voice of the little stream which runs past our cottage garden. It sounds so happy and so eager, and as though it were repeating to itself over and over again some very lovely, secret message. I think all running water seems to be singing the same song, either loud and clear or soft and low. I do wish I knew what the waters were saying.  It is quite different from the voice of the sea and of salt waters, but I never can understand it. It is an unknown tongue. Tell me, Shepherd, do you know what all the waters sing as they hurry on their way?"

 

     The Shepherd smiled again, and they stood silently for a few moments by the little torrent, which seemed to shout even more loudly and exultantly as though it knew they had paused to listen.  Suddenly, as Much-Afraid stood beside the Shepherd it seemed as though her ears and her understanding were open, and bit by bit, the water-language became clear.  It is, of course, impossible to write it in water-language, but this is the best I can do to translate it. Of curse, it is a very poor effort, for though a water song perhaps may be set to music, words are quite a different matter.  But it went something like this:

 

Come, oh come! Let us away-

Lower, lower every day,

Oh, what Joy it is to race

Down to find the lowest place.

This the dearest law we know-

'It is happy to go low'

Sweetest urge and sweetest will,

'Let us go down lower still.'

Hear the summons night and day

Calling us to come away.

From the heights we leap and flow

To the valleys down below.

Always answering to the call,

The the lowest place of all,

Sweetest urge and sweetest pain,

To go low and rise again.



 

     "That is very puzzling," said Much-Afraid, after she had listened for a little and found that this was the refrain, repeated over and over again, though with a thousand variations of little trills and murmurs and bubbles and splashing sighs.  " 'Let us go down lower still,' the water seems to be singing so gladly, because it is hurrying to go down to the lowest place, and yet you are calling me to the Highest Places.  What does it mean?"

 

     "The High Places," answered the Shepherd, "are the starting places for the journey down to the lowest place in the world. When you have hinds' feet and can go 'leaping on the mountains and skipping on the hills,' you will be able, as I am , to run down from the heights in gladdest self-giving and then go up to the mountains again. You will be able to mount to the High Places swifter than eagles, for it is only up on the High Places of Love that anyone can receive the power to pour themselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving."

 

     That's the Brooke I want to be. 

 

     Christ has bestowed his love upon me, so that I may bestow His love upon others.  I want to immerse myself in the waters of His love each and every day "for it is only up on the High Places of Love that anyone can receive the power to pour themselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving."  I want to be so filled with His grace, His love, and His spirit that when He calls me to "Come away, from the heights I will leap and flow. To the valleys down below." Singing always, "This the dearest law I know, 'It is happy to go low'.  Sweetest urge and sweetest will, 'Let us go down lower still."

 

     I long to be like the dancing brooks of the High Places, always so glad and so willing to do their Shepherds bidding.  Always so joyful in their act of giving and giving more.  I long to be like the brooks that gurgle and laugh in the ice of winter.  That is the Brooke I long to be.  And that, with my Good Shepherd's strong hand, is who I will become. 

 

     So, you can call me Brooke.  I don't wish to change my name.  :D

~ Laughing Water