I had a dream once.
I was sitting at a table practicing writing my name over and over.
It wasn't the name I was born with, it was the chinese one I married into;
the paper was filled.
From behind me an arm reached out and a hand covered mine-
like you would to help a child. He said,
"No, that's not it, it's like this..."
and He moved my hand to write a completely different asian name.
I looked at the foreign letters and my heart said
I will take this name.
I stood up and turned and clung to Him.
"Then I will go where you go," I said.
"Your people are my people.
There is a Son of man out here that my heart loves. I look for Him in the streets and on the hills. I try to hear Him in words I don't understand; see Him in lovely dark eyes. My mind is slowly gazing on a fresh image of my Beloved, who is the Desire of this people, my people. And when the Spirit breathes into the matrix of these thoughts, I hear Him calling my new name.