It’s a longstanding joke in my family, one that I thought might possibly someday be forgotten. I no longer believe that will be possible, so now it will be recorded on the Internet as well, to be remembered.
We visited a rock and mineral museum many years ago as a school field trip. Our tour guide kindly asked our names and my sisters introduced themselves, “I’m Grace,” “I’m Susanna,” “I’m Gabrielle.” My turn came and I followed suit. “I’m Anna.”
“Imanna!” The tour guide beamed. “What a beautiful name!” Embarrassed, I didn’t correct her as my sisters giggled. Imanna, what a beautiful name. Ha!
Since then, I rarely, perhaps never, introduce myself as “I’m Anna.” Instead, I say, very clearly, “My name is Anna. And it has never been a problem since.
I started this blog in 2009 as I launched into a wonderful, terrible, life-breaking, life-shaping year working with a church in Peru. I was not particularly good at keeping up with the blog. In fact, I have started many blogs in my life, many journals, many scraps of paper, and I have not kept up with any of them that well.
This story is appropriate because this time, this will work, and it will be about who I am. Where I am. Who I am becoming. Who I am now. And because, at a very simple, visceral, longing level, I need to write.