My earthly mother tried to name me. I use that name on earth. It is what I have. She did her best.
Men have tried to name me. I shook those names off. Those names meant only to enslave me.
They were not me. And I did not belong to them.
You, my Heavenly One, are the only one who knows my name.
You spoke me into being with it.
Your Son has spoken it. When He saved me. He speaks it still.
I still do not know it. It is mine but not for me to know.
When you call it, you whisper it between the stars and galaxies.
I think I hear a familiar song in my spirit and turn to you. You give me just enough to remember I do not belong here.
But in turning I forget.
But sometimes I think I hear it in the trees, in between the rustle of a bird building her nest, or in the way the ocean crashes against the rocks.
My name is a psalm. A song of praise to you.
Fulfilled only when you call my name.
And I answer.
Sung by Sharon
Faithful readers, whatever your song, sing it. It’s what you were created to do.