Ray Evangeline. It’s a name that people either love or hate. We have yet to meet friend or stranger that is capable of hiding their reaction to it. You’ll deal with this your whole life; we totally recognize that and accept responsibility for it. So here’s why we did it, my girl.

You were good news. Nope… you were great news. We found out just a month before you entered our lives as a tiny embryo that we had between a 1 and 3 percent chance of getting pregnant. Our doctor talked us through godly grieving and implored us not to target one another in the bitterness that sadness can sometimes breed. I was too shocked to have proper time to be sad before God gave us you. From my perspective, your dad was very sad. You’ll have to ask him for a more accurate representation of his reaction to the news when you’re curious. Regardless of how either of us felt during that month of processing, we were overjoyed (and a little stunned) when God made your presence known. Besides being a lovely name, Evangeline became a natural fit for you because you were our good news.

Ray is a boy’s name. Got it. We obviously knew that when we chose it, but we honestly didn’t think it would be as difficult for people as it has been. “Rae” has become more common for a girl, so we figured all would be well despite the boy spelling. We also thought that by growing up in PNG, you wouldn’t have to deal with the stigma of it being a boy’s name. We’ve never encountered a Papua New Guinean man named Ray. Lots of Johns, Thomases, Stevens, and Andrews, but no Rays. Your dad just finished some work “in the bush” and showed lots of Papua New Guineans pictures of you. They loved you. They were also confused as to why we would give our little girl a boy’s name. Hmmmm… oops.

But I’m not going to apologize to you for the explanations you will constantly be required to give. As you grow into the beautiful woman of God I know you’ll be, I hope you’ll understand the significance of your name and love having opportunities to explain it. Your grandmother called me her ray of sunshine my whole life, which she shortened to Ray. So you’re getting “my” name. I’ll be the first to tell you that I was only a ray of sunshine occasionally. I was a serious child often being admonished to be happy or to smile or to stop looking so mean. I didn’t intend to communicate tenseness, it was just that my default facial expression was, quite unfortunately, very serious. You, on the other hand, are a naturally happy child. You laugh often and smile almost unceasingly. Where people commented over and over again that I should be happier, they comment over and over again on your gentle demeanor and friendly face. “Does she ever cry???” they ask. Of course you do, but never without a valid reason. I held my smiles close and you pass them out like candy. You truly are your name.

Beyond that, your dad and I desperately want you to be a ray of God’s light in a very dark world. Go ahead and grimace at the cheesiness of that statement, but that’s the best way I know to say it. We want you to grow to know and love Him to the point that it overflows into the lives of those around you. It’s a hard place you’ve been born into; not a day goes by that I don’t hear or read something that makes me sad (and scared) for you. But I also have full faith that God can give you the ability to embrace your name and shine for Him.

So I’m not sorry we gave you a boy’s name. Live up to it and remember whose kid you are every time you have to explain why you’re a girl named Ray.

Brian was thrilled to find some BBQ sauce with Baby Ray’s name!