Hello, in America, my name is Bonnie. It is a Scottish adjective, which means “pretty”, and this was itself derived from Middle French bon, "good". In Mexico, my name is Belita – which means “beautiful”. In Kazakh, my name is Banu, which means “beautiful woman”. In Uigher, my name is Gulbonam, which means “beautiful flower”. In Tibetan, my name is Zhaxi Zhouma – or, “beautiful woman from the west who brings good news”. In Chinese, my name is He Jia Li, (何佳丽), “beautiful and distinguished”. All of these names were given to me by others, starting with my parents. The only name I chose for myself is my Nepali name, Baani, which means "habit" – I am not a bad habit, an old habit, or a liquor habit – I am a good habit. And no one ever forgot my name.
It is not so much as what is in the name, but who I am. And not so much even who I am, but who I am in Christ. I seemed to have lost sight of this a lot over the past few months. I have been struggling with physical disability, DYS-ABILITY, since my attack in June. First, I received wrong information from Chinese doctors. Then, when I finally got correct information, the doctors in America said it might be too late. So two months after breaking my arm and back, I had surgery on my arm. It was a good surgery, but my fingers were immobilized for two months, and they are very slow to come back. My wrist was immobilized for three months, and regaining motion is v-e-r-y slow (I am sporting a nice short arm "clam shell" cast which I am able to remove numerous times a day to do exercise). Because of the cartilage damage, I may not get back full use of my wrist and hand. So I have been struggling. I have not written much on my blog, and I have not socialized much, as well. Today at church, I heard, “It’s not about you!” But that is at the top on my blog site!!! I know that, but I seemed to have forgotten it. Maybe that is why I haven’t blogged, because then I would be reminded of what is really important in life. Today I was reminded that God can use me for His purposes, whether I am here in the States, in China, in Nepal, or even in Kazakhstan – but please don’t send me back to Kazakhstan!
And, what’s more, He can use me whether or not my right hand is fully functional. I took a class last weekend, and the teacher helped hold my right hand in place, and showed me how I could use my hand to “listen” to the story of the body, and how to listen to the fluid flow in the the body – the music the body makes. It is an amazing symphony. I was able to use my hands to listen for normal patterns, feel where the patterns were disrupted, and make the appropriate changes. And I was able to make good changes in my lab partner!
So it doesn’t seem to matter what I am called – just that I am called. And I know that He has gifted my hands. Whether they are 100% functional or not on human standards, doesn’t seem to matter.
I have another name – He calls me His Poiema, which is Greek for “masterpiece” – I am the masterpiece that He has created.
And, funny thing -- it’s not about me, it’s all about HIM.