I remember that first time in school when Mrs. Dirksen, my first grade teacher, asked me what my name was. I knew that. And then she asked me what my mother’s name was. I said to her, “Momma.”
She said, “No, that is not her name.”
I said, “Yes it is. We all call her that.”
“No,” she said, “it’s not ‘Momma,’ it’s something else.”
I said, “No, it’s not.”
She said, “Look, momma is what she is, momma is what she does, but Momma’s not her name.”
And I said, “Well, I’m sure you’re wrong, but I’ll ask her tonight.” So when I got home from school that night, I was layin’ for my momma to walk in the room. I said, “Momma, do you have another name besides ‘Momma’?”
She said, “Well, yes, Son. My name is Ethel.” It sounded obscene, like she should have a twin sister named Regular or Unleaded. Then she said, “And not only that, but I have a middle name, too. It’s Faye.” And then she said, which was the most astounding revelation of all, “Miller is my last name.” It was the same name as I had! I have never forgotten that sense of growing awareness that dawned on me. That’s how the mind is. It is in the process, says (Philippians 2:8), of becoming.