Meaning in a Name

My name means “victory,” and boy have I taken that to heart. Unfortunately, not as much for the achievements I’ve made as for the striving towards victory that marks the years, the weeks, the days and hours of my life. Winning–I’ve never put so fine a point on it but yes, winning is the goal. This is a discovery to me, so bear with me. I’m not a competitive person so I don’t tend to associate myself with a drive to win. But I guess I am fiercely competitive with myself–if that’s a thing. Who are the opponents? Hypothetically my lesser and my better self, and I’ll be damned if the former wins out. This posture towards life is starting to butt heads with reality, after all these years. It’s been a good run (has it, Laura?). But especially as I contemplate time more and more, I’m starting to question all this fighting for a better me. 

I spend so much time on self-improvement: my life is full of the physical, mental, spiritual, and relational avenues I employ to make me better. A better wife, mother, daughter, friend; homemaker, thinker, writer, teacher, gardner, graphic designer, communicator, baker. And sometimes I make it! Sometimes I reach new heights and I feel so powerful. So in control. So Hopeful. So worthy. (Is my Enneagram 2, strong 1-wing showing?) 

And then, I gain back ten of the pounds I worked away. I lose connection to a friend who moves away after years of intentional friendship. I spend time studying theologians and philosophies that later I must re-examine and unlearn. We make headway on credit card debt and three major appliances break down in one year. For a life so focused on working hard to achieve and overcome, such set-backs and circumstances (hello, pandemic), are confusing at best and debilitating at worst. 

As I obsess over the concept of time, I have found myself supremely frustrated by the pervasive trend to focus life on learning, growing, and working towards the you of the future–only to arrive at middle-age having never reached that goal and in many cases, facing a change to the goal entirely. Why is it that so many artists break into their field in their 40s and 50s? Doesn’t that seem a waste–all that time not practicing or enjoying their pinnacle of self? 

I realize with supreme consternation that I have bought into this modus operandi and it (and I, admittedly) need a major overhaul. With so little in our actual power or control (if you didn’t know it pre-2020, maybe you do now…or maybe, like me, you’ve chosen to look the other way), there has to be a different definition of “victory”--a different end goal for the value of a life. 

I think of the version of victory defined by Jesus’ life. He invited defeat more than any other human would dare. And yet, he wasn’t really trying to lose, per se. It wasn’t due to a lack of intention or hard work or desire, but he was operating in a value system that was so other from the cultural waters he was swimming in that what he achieved looked like losing (and he did lose to be sure–family, home, friends, physical security, his life, even his connection to God at one point). The things he focused on turned the concept of “winning” on its head–introducing to our world what we can only perceive as a paradox: strength in weakness; Victory in defeat. 

As I wonder about his other-worldly course through life on earth, I realize how often his work was focused on tangible, sensory, physical needs. Connection. Physical wholeness. Food and drink and solitude and friendship. These parts of being human are the things that ground us in our moments. The loneliness that draws us to reach out to a friend. The pangs that send us to seek food. The labor that depletes our resources and leads us to rest. 

Be present in the moment. The journey is the only destination. With great annoyance, I recall the hundreds of times I’ve heard or read this concept. I’ve always taken it in with a serious expression–”yes, yes, of course, how wise”--but I’ve always had one hand in my pocket furiously typing into a metaphorical calculator, tallying up the cost. 

And what is the cost? Control. Power. Pride. Stability. All a kind of manufactured sort but oh, how real the mirage looks! If I’m being honest with myself, I’d say that I believe what I receive can only come through my hard work. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, I’ve still held on to this thread of belief that I’m on my own here. I’m afraid to let it go. 

So why am I contemplating all this? Because I’m standing here at a kind of intellectual precipice and taking stock, and I’m not terribly satisfied with what’s in the storeroom. I have a great deal of friendships that have come and gone, despite my fervent and loyal attentions, and starting over (yet again!) exhausts me on every level. I have a deeply-chosen career as a mom and teacher that I’m resenting like it’s an involuntary prison sentence. I have a strong body that waxes and wanes regardless of my best efforts (efforts which suck up a lot of time). I have a gift as an artist that I won’t dare to engage because I don’t see a viable path towards achievement in the field. And there’s the simple truth of it all. I am tired of this paralyzing tension between what I have and what I want. Just working harder hasn’t seemed to do the trick.

It’s time to redefine victory for myself. I need to come up with something because I have, in fact, reached middle age and I haven’t achieved the goals I wanted to and I am finding they may be changing anyway and I’m at a crossroads here. I can just make a new set of goals and plug along as I have been, or I can jump shark and join a new, seemingly paradoxical, worldview. Where trying a new recipe just for myself is victory, even if I never add it to our weekly meal rotation. Where teaching my son to read is victory, even if we don’t end up being life-long homeschoolers. Where spending time and money on a date night is victory, even if all we do is sit in each other’s presence in exhausted silence. Where writing this blog post is victory, even if it’s not building a platform to make me rich and famous. 

Maybe the new definition is victory as be-ing. Simply absorbing the human experience through my physical self—and that is found in actual present moments, not behind or beyond. 

My name means victory. That fact remains the same regardless of which definition I choose. And I hope that means that no matter what, I am won. That my worth doesn’t lie in any of these years and days and moments, no matter what fills them. That I am free to wrestle and wonder (and get it very, very wrong) because I am desperately, wholly, unendingly loved for who I am: Laura.