The Name On The Library Card

What a day it was when I walked into the library in my hometown and got my library card.
Signing the card, in the presence of the librarian, made me feel so grown up and so proud.
I carried that card in my little girl wallet as if I was carrying valuable treasure.
Words my mother had said  so often rang in my ears.

You are never without a friend when you have a book to read.
Those words came to mind only last week, when I said them to my oldest granddaughter.
What does that mean, Grandma?
It means you’re never lonely, and the characters in the books become your friends.

She smiled knowingly.
She can tell me about characters in stories her mommy reads to her as if they are friends.
She does know them.
They are a part of her.

I always had a library card throughout my life.
Taking all my children to the library was something we did every other week.
The older ones each had their own satchels to carry the books they chose.
The little ones had their books in my large tote, and were placed in a special basket at home.

No library books were lost.
They knew that borrowing them was a privilege.
Having access to all those books, right at our fingertips, was an adventure.
They chose their books according to their interests.

I wish I still had my first library card, which has been lost in the corridors of time.
To see my little girl handwriting would be such a delight to me now.
I hope that going to the library is something all mamas still do with their children.
Such wonderful memories are sweetly etched in my mind.

It was a phone call from my husband’s sister that brought library memories back to me.
She called me to tell me a funny story.
As she began, I could tell where the story was going, but I wanted to hear her tell it.
I wanted to hear it exactly the way it happened.

My true name is Regina.
I was called that at home and all through elementary school.
One neighbor, across the street from the home where I grew up, called me something different.
That man, with his loud voice, would see me on the street and say, Well, hello, Reg!

I actually tried to avoid him when I saw him come out of his house.
I knew that very soon, that nickname, would be heard with gusto.
I never had anyone call me any other name before him.
I always wanted to know why he chose to call me that and did he know someone with my name?

It wasn’t until I went to high school that the nickname continued.
Now; however, it became Reggie.
It stuck.
To my elementary friends, I was Regina and to many high school friends, I was Reggie.

In my college days, I was Regina again, except one person called me something different.
I met my husband in high school.
He came from a family of eight children.
His oldest sister was named, Regina.

The family called her, Gina.
Maybe because he was used to saying Gina, he began calling me that name, too.
No one had ever shortened my name to that before.
I liked it because it was special and because he was special to me.

In married life, Gina stuck.
I still have to think about which group I am with, because I am a different name in each.
I have to think about it when I sign birthday cards.
It seems as if I have a name for each stage of my life.

My husband’s sister called me and told me that she applied for a library card.
She never got anything in the mail and tried the application again with no success.
Finally, she went to the county library to check on the problem.
After giving her name, and having them search in the computer, they looked at her.

You already have a library card! They said in a matter of fact tone.
She then realized the problem.
Does she live in_____ and her husband’s name is_______? She asked the librarian.
She laughed as she told me: They thought I was you! (since we have the same last name as well)

I laughed and said that she should have told them she was the “original” one.
Oh, I did! She said, which made me laugh even more.
To alleviate the problem, she had to have her full middle name on her library card.
I only have the initial for my middle name., which apparently now sets us apart.

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it. (Revelation 2:17)

One day, I will have another name.
It will not be Regina, or Reg, or Reggie, or Gina.
It will be another name that My Lord Jesus will give to me.
Only my Lord Jesus and I will know that name.

Oh, to be so known.
Oh, to be so loved.
The name to which we are known is not as important as the name we represent.
I want to represent my Lord Jesus well and be known by HIS name.