What's in a Name?

I’ve had five name changes in my life. Five official name changes. No marriages….to people at least. What I mean is that I was ordained a priest and took celibacy vows and sort of felt ‘’married’’ or at least ‘’taken’’ – you know, bride of Christ and all that…
 
My name has always been a topic of conversation. I can track my name changes the way people track where they’ve lived. Like OAK --> PDX. Mine are:
 
Maria Alicia González --> Marialicia Estrella González --> Rachel Marie González --> Leora Marie Bernard --> Leora Marialicia González
 
Why? Why so many changes? The story around my birth is that my father went to city hall and didn’t get it right. That my mother’s intention was always the name Marialicia but my dad separated it. So, when at 26 I moved to the town next to where I was born in New Jersey, I went to city hall, added my mother’s middle name (Estrella) and made it official. Or so I thought…
 
Rachel was my name for 10 years. I was ordained a priest (Rev Rachel) in 2002 and grimaced immediately when I heard that name. I was told specifically it was not Raquel, as would be in my native tongues of Spanish or Portuguese. It was Rachel. Simple. American. It was part of the process where the spiritual group I was in attempted to distance me from my heritage and family and cultural roots. I was not allowed to have the name Maria for my middle name either. Too culturally significant.
 
But what’s in a name? At this point in my life, I’m shifting back to my birth name of Marialicia. I was named after the Brazilian nurse who bonded with my mother so much I became her namesake. Leora was the name given to me by the spiritual order I was part of for almost 13 years. I’m shifting back to the simple honesty of where I’ve come from which is the solid foundation of where I am now. It’s been a funny experience to feel shy around my real name. The name I grew up with. Feeling shy around asking people to call me by my name. Stepping back into my name; it always made me smile, albeit it always came with a story because people can’t pronounce it or get stuck in rolling their r’s... But it’s true. I’m the daughter of Cuban refugees and my name carries that story. My name carries the story that I was ‘’supposed’’ to be born in Brasil but in a turn of events, my family had to move back to the U.S. two weeks prior to my arrival. That I was the third daughter and last child and my mother wanted one of her girls to have the name “Maria” to honor Mother Mary.
 
Names carry an energy of being. They are history and present day circumstance. They carry memory and resonance of family and promise. I promise to live up to mine. How about you? What’s in your name?