The Other Me

Somehow I have managed to write this blog without disclosing my name, and I will continue to do so. My first name is Emily. That's probably pretty common. My last name, however, is not. Which I take great pride in. My last name somehow means a lot to me. Weird in this day and age, I know.

In any case, there is one other girl in the U.S. that has my same first and last name. Just one. She's a handful of years younger than me. I think 7 years younger. A few years ago I was in a volunteer program (Mission Year: missionyear.org), which I am almost certain I have mentioned multiple times. During that time, we were encouraged to blog. Ironically back then, I hated blogging and it felt forced and unnatural. Regardless, I posted a few blogs - and by a few I probably mean 3 over the course of one long year that certainly warranted many more.

Anyway, the ONE other girl in the U.S. who shares my name commented on my Mission Year blog. She told me that she was 11, that her name was my name too, and that she was also a Christian. It was cute and sweet. At 11, I totally would have posted the same thing on someone's blog. Or now. Shoot, my name is THAT freaking uncommon. I can't say I have thought a lot about her. But I also can't say I haven't thought about her at all.

A few months ago, I watched this documentary called "Google Me". Self-centered though it (and possibly my own very blog entry) may be, I was hooked. The concept of identity grabs hold of my deepest, pondering self. Yes Shakespeare, what is in a name? And what is in the name you create for yourself? And the name others create for you?

That's another blog for another time (thank goodness - my mental capacities are not quite there right now), but this girl reached out to me. And I haven't forgotten, even as it has been on the backburner of my mind. Of course, there is this realization that there is literally no one in the U.S. with my last name that is not related to me distantly somehorw. I recognize this isn't the case for the Smiths and the Johnsons... But it is so true for me, for us, for my "clan". And being the secret neo-post-modernist that I am, I cling to that.

So I googled myself today. I've done it before. But this time something new came up. Of course I went through the list. Art stuff? Me. Mission Year? Me. Athletic league? Yeah, that other girl that shares my name. Debate team? Me. Youtube videos? Pamela? Who is that?

I am 7 or 8 years older than my "other me". I am familiar with her existence. I know what high school she went to, because Google is not so good at the whole "let's be discrete" thing. Tonight I found out a lot more that I wasn't prepared for. And because I am who I am, caused me distress.

Emily. Pamela. In the other me's life, Pamela is her mother. Emily is 15. Or possibly 16 by now, I'm not a total stalker. Youtube videos came up with Pamela, her mother. Her mother was diagnosed with cancer. Melanoma. Which is something that I see at my work as a medical assistant in a dermatology office. She was giving her testimony at church about God's healing and miraculous touch. This was in March of 2013. Just 5 months ago. How she had asked for prayers and God answered them.

I honestly didn't watch the video. I am skeptical about God's healing, how God interacts with the world, and how He works through us. I think he works through us primarily. I don't believe that miracles don't happen. But I know that there a huge risk in ascribing anything to God. Not to Him. But to us. To what it does to us (again, possibly another blog coming up in the future, dare I be so bold). In any case, I watched 2 minutes. Just long enough for Pamela to introduce herself. Just long enough to hear her say my last name and her last name correctly. And to hear her speak with a Minnesotan accent (because I miss those). She must be one of us, because only one of us says my last name the way she did, and she did it beautifully.

She spoke about her miraculous healing. I didn't watch it. I watch her say her name. I wondered about Emily. I pondered the words "melanoma" and "miracle". And I shuddered when I saw a video linked under youtube's "related videos". It had Pamela's name and church listed. It was the video for her memorial service. A mere 2 months after her supposed miracle.

Me being who I am, I watched a few minutes of the hour-long memorial, and tried to skip around, hoping that her daughter Emily said something. Desperately hoping for some connection other than the name. But she never came up. However, in the memorial service, a song I heard once was played as one of "Pamela's favorite songs". It has emotional ramifications for me too. Not ones of peace, but ones of wrestling with my deepest doubts. And not knowing whether I was winning or losing.

It's not a common song. It's straight up a Christian song. And it's a "charismatic" Christian song. By Misty Edwards. You do not know it if you have not been a part of that circle at one point. But I know. And I saw Misty sing it herself. In person. 2011? 2012? One of those years, in a deep place of doubt and pain.

What does it mean? I don't have a clue. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means my family is unilaterally messed up, questioning, confused, and hurt. Maybe it means we are human. Maybe it means we are all connected.

Whatever the case, a 15 year old girl with my name, who has grown up Christian (as I did for many years), lost her mother to a stroke while she was winning the battle of melanoma. Which I am certain feels like a divine scam or trick. How can it feel like anything but that? I felt that and I only watched part of each video after Pamela had passed. It feels cruel, bitter and painful. The one girl that shares my name, has experienced an incredible loss. And for some weird reason, I am connected to her by name, to her mother by song and faith...

Emily is "another me" by name. But I am so struck by how deeply each of us are connected. It kills me that we fight so hard to prove how we are SO damn different from other people. It seems to justify hatred, judgement, and all the things that the Jesus I follow stood so actively against. 

The things this Emily and I have in common? We both grew up (more or less) in the same faith. Her mom and I both loved the same rare song. I now work in the field that studies the condition that seemed most life-threatening to her mother. I understand loss to some degree (though a lesser degree than this Emily does). I understand situations that feel like a divine joke for a sadistic deity. I get that.

We probably don't have much actually in common. But I see her as "another me". Maybe it doesn't make sense. Maybe it causes us to justify things for people that we always felt so noble about judging them for. Maybe it means letting things go. Maybe it means holding painful and "arbitrary" things close to our hearts. But... I think that loving God means seeing people as "another me".

Adam was called "ish". Eve was "isha".  "One like me, but different". God, how I wish we saw each other that way. How much suffering would be understood, sorrow shared, love actualized, forgiveness actually given, and freedom finally granted. How the Kingdom would finally be lived out.

I want to be a part of that dream. I truly believe that is how Jesus treats us, how God has regarded us, how God bestows love upon us, and how God makes his love visible through us to people who have never known love. Stop trying to see how people "aren't like you" because of A, B, and C. Who are you? Who am I? Why do I feel entitled to that distinction when my God didn't take that distinction upon himself, not seeking equality with God as something to be grasped? God, forgive us for lording ourselves over other that are just life us, but different.

I hope and pray that we would regard others in that way.

1 Corinthians 5:16 - So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer.

May we no longer do so for Christ or for the ones He loves. Which, by the way, is everyone.