What’s in a name? Plenty.

When it came to drawing up teams on the school yard, I was never the first kid picked. In fact, I usually got picked next to last—if not dead last. It’s something that stays with you longer than you’d think. When you really peel back the layers, it’s not just about games; it’s about feeling seen, wanted, included. It lingers in your bones.

At the same time, I cringed at roll call on the first days of school because, inevitably, the teacher would butcher my name—or skip it altogether because they didn’t know how to pronounce it. Even though it seems obvious to me.

Now imagine being introduced to a whole new class of potential friends that way. And God forbid you, as a little kid, correct the teacher—which you’re somehow expected to do first. That same moment kept repeating—through college, every workplace, every organization, every church, every social circle.

2nd Grade Class—J.H. Moore Elemntary Marshall, Texas (1972)

Personally, I don’t think my name is that hard to say—especially if you care enough to try and get it right. Over the years, I’ve grown to respect people who ask me how to pronounce my name. On the flip side, I carry considerable disdain for people who try to correct me by saying it the way they think it should be said.

The worst cases? The ones I’ve told—clearly—and they still keep mispronouncing it.

You’re too much trouble.
You don’t belong here.
You don’t matter enough for me to learn this.

It’s like I’ve always had to explain myself before I could be myself.

I get it. Your eyes read R-A-I-N-E-R and your brain hears rain and trainer. You don’t think Ry, as in dry.

Funny thing is, if I replaced the A with an E, odds are you’d get it right. Well—most of you.

“Why don’t you change how you spell your name?” Oh, okay, Joey. Why don’t you go suck on the end of an exhaust pipe?

I love it [insert sarcasm here] when people add letters that aren’t there. Or when they look at me with that tilted head, puzzled look, and say, “Rhino?”

Yes, Karen. My parents named me after a rhinoceros. Good thing they weren’t fond of wildebeests or porcupines.

Someone recently shared that they were glad to see me advocating for myself. They don’t realize I’ve had to advocate for myself my entire life.

These are the moments and the experiences that shape you.

The poor in spirit are blessed, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs. Those who mourn are blessed, for they will be comforted. The gentle are blessed, for they will inherit the earth.

Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness are blessed, for they will be filled. The merciful are blessed, for they will be shown mercy. The pure in heart are blessed, for they will see God.

The peacemakers are blessed, for they will be called sons of God. Those who are persecuted for righteousness are blessed, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

You are blessed when they insult and persecute you and falsely say every kind of evil against you because of Me. Be glad and rejoice, because your reward is great in heaven. For that is how they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5‬:‭3‬-‭12‬ ‭HCSB‬‬

If you’ve ever had to correct someone—repeatedly—or felt the sting of not being fully seen because of something as personal as your name, know this: you are not alone. You’re not too much trouble. You’re not a mistake. You do belong here. And your name—just like your story—matters.

Have you ever felt invisible, misnamed, or overlooked? I’d love to hear your story. Drop a comment below.

Let’s start a conversation about what it means to truly see and honor each other—not just in name, but in heart.

And hey, if you know someone who needs to read this—please share it.