I am a France. I guess if you don’t know the France Family
that will mean nothing to you. But it
means everything to me. It is who I am.
From personality traits to the unusually long second toe, I am a France.
During a family gathering a few years ago, a slide show of
pictures was being played in the background. As I sat there looking at the
faces that came on the screen, I would pick out the aunt, uncle or cousin that is
the spitting image of said face on the screen. The France’s have strong genes.
It’s not just the physical characteristics that make me a
France. It also connects me to a piece of land.
Land that has been home to the France family since the 1930’s; from the
9 original France kids, to spouses, to cousins, to the numerous cats and dog
and anyone else to claims France as their name.
I love being part of this family. I love the stories that
make us who we are, the good, bad and ugly. And there are plenty of each of
those. I love that the majority of this large family has at some point lived in
various parts of this world, but home is still the Ranch. I love that I had the privilege to grow up
there. I love that I had my grandma live next door. I love that summers meant
weekends that were filled with visiting cousins, swimming in the pond and peach
cobblers.
I’ve been thinking about this idea of names for a few weeks.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as
sweet.” To some, their last name is nothing more than a label; something that
distinguishes the difference between Bob Smith and Bob Jones. A Hebrew name wasn’t a label. Their name was
viewed as equivalent to the person himself. A name showed the person’s worth,
character and reputation. You see this in scripture when God changes Abram’s
name to Abraham or Jacob’s name to Israel. God was saying who they were and who
they were going to be.
These thoughts came about while discussing the
Israel/Palestine conflict. In my limited knowledge and understanding, I tried
to explain a little about what the fighting is about- land. Of course there is
much more to it and it is much more complex. But both people want the same
land. Both have connections to the land. It’s not just about X number of square
feet that belongs to them. It’s about their history. Their story. Their family.
Their name. It is at the core of who they are.
I am not just a France. I am a daughter of the Most High. I
am an heir along with Jesus. He has given me his name. When he looks at me, he
sees his perfect, holy, righteous son. Why do I struggle to embrace this name?
It is who He says I am. Am I proud of the legacy I now have? I have a
responsibility to live a life that reflects the name I have been given.
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