“…to Timothy, my dear child:
grace, mercy, and peace from God…”
2 Timothy 1:2
On this Feast of St. Timothy, I smile as I recall that my husband and I celebrated our family feast days with a little cake and the favorite dinner of the honoree. When our sons moved out, we sent greeting cards -usually homemade- to celebrate these special days. Today, I admit to resorting to a quick phone call or a text to assure Mike and Tim that I have not forgotten their special days. After all, their names mean a lot to me, too.
I also can’t help recalling a dinnertime conversation when our son Tim was in first grade. The meal had progressed with the usual talk about each of our days. In the midst of the conversation, our red-faced seven-year-old suddenly howled, “Why am I the only one in this family whose name doesn’t start with M?” My husband and I were taken aback because we had no idea that this so bothered our younger son. Before we could respond, Tim tearfully added, “Mike, Mary and Michael. Why is my name Timothy?” It occurred to me that this was a good question for a seeming outcast.
I explained that his dad and I didn’t choose each other because our names began with M. I added that when our first baby was a boy, his Dad wanted to keep the name Michael in the family. When our second baby was on the way, I felt certain that he was a boy. We talked at length about his name because my husband was committed to another M-name. I told Tim that I didn’t like any of the M names his dad suggested. Why pick a name just because of the M? I loved “Timothy” and that’s why I selected that name. Tim’s is the only name in the family we really had to think about. With that, the smiling Timothy finished his dinner.
Dear God, regardless of what we are called, you know us and love us. Thank you!
©2016 Mary Penich – All Rights Reserved