Her Name is Amelia Grace

Recently, I was out for a run and, as usual, I was lost in my thoughts. As I ran past a gathering of people I overheard words that stopped me dead in my tracks: “her name is Amelia Grace.” Something in the way the words were spoken caught me so off guard that I simply had to stop and take in the moment. Stopping, I looked back to see a small group gathered around a stroller. The man who was speaking was telling those gathered around that the child in the stroller had a name: Amelia Grace. He appeared to be Amelia’s grandfather, out for a stroll to proudly introduce the world to this wonderful Amelia and Amelia to this wonderful world.

What stopped me was the paradox: the dignity with which he said, “Amelia Grace” and the namelessness of so many I’d seen that day. The grandfather seemed certain that he knew that Amelia was created wonderfully and beloved. Yet perhaps what really stopped me was that it came in such stark contrast to my day, a day spent touring organizations that serve men and women who are homeless. Throughout the day I had seen countless people who appeared to be dismissed, forgotten and no longer fully embraced as human - nameless. Men and women who are living in the midst of dashed dreams and a vicious scarcity of opportunity and possibility. Yet in this grandfather’s voice, I heard the truth about us all: we are human, we have names, and we are created wonderfully and beloved.

I’m often asked by friends what to do when they encounter someone who is homeless and asking for money. Usually, I invite them to see the person behind the asking, to notice them, and connect as humans. I know it’s not the answer, but then perhaps that’s not the question. That person, now homeless, was once held proudly by someone and given a name. They are not “homeless,” they are a child with a name – just like Amelia Grace.


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