What's in a Name?

My name is Laura Sporre.

I love the sound of that.

As of today, it has been my name for two glorious years. I don't always think of it as unusual anymore. I've signed my name, introduced myself, and answered to Laura Sporre hundreds of times since then, but sometimes when I hear my name I still get a thrill.

I never was one of those girls who sat around doodling my name with the last name of whatever guy I had a crush on. For one thing, I didn't have many crushes. For another thing, I understood that it was unhealthy for me emotionally. When you're trying to be content wherever God has you and waiting to date until you're ready for marriage, practicing writing "Mrs...." just doesn't seem like a wise idea.  Oh, I wanted to be Laura Sporre. But I didn't dare imagine that I would be.

Time moved on and God did His work and suddenly there I was -- a Sporre at last. Some women feel that to change your name after marriage (they call it "name-abandonment") is like giving up your own identity and doing away with your personality. Others choose to incorperate both names -- using one as a middle name or having a hyphentated last name -- perhaps to signify equality in the marriage or to symbolize that it's share-and-share alike. But not me. We were becoming a family. I want to be indentified with my husband -- by his name -- and I'm glad to be under his leadership. So the first thing I wanted to do when we got home from our honeymoon was to do the paperwork, get new ID cards and legally change my name. The satisfied grin on my new drivers license will tell you. I'm thrilled to be Laura Sporre. 

The family legend is that when the Sporre ancestors were in Finland they had a different last name altogether. When they came across to America they stole the name "Sporre" and just started using it, because it was the name of royalty over in Finland.  Someone said that some modern Sporre's went to Finland and got the proverbial red carpet layed out for them everywhere they went -- just because of their last name.

But for me it's not that "Sporre" is such a fantastic name in itself. It spells wierd and pronounces even wierder, and more often than not is associated with a reproductive cell produced by bacteria, fungi, and green plants. If I was choosing a name that sounded best with mine or looked good in print, that wouldn't be it. But it's not in the name.

It's Packy's commitment to me. It's the look in his eyes and the words that say he loves me. It's his patience and wisdom with me. It's the fun we have and the way we fit perfectly together. It's old books and silent movies, antique shopping and bike rides, traveling, cinnamon rolls at midnight, working together at home, and all of the things that we enjoy.  It's the growing and learning and laughing that we've done so far, and all that will come in the future. It's knowing where I belong and who I belong with. It's all this and more that makes me stop and smile sometimes when I see my name.

I'm proud to be a Sporre. And  I'm proud to be his wife.