Black Women Have It Going On

Good morning from Colorado, where the peaks are tall. Today is May 2nd, and my faith is secured in Christ Jesus! Thanks for stopping by my blog as we open a new chapter of life, faith, and the long walk toward healing.

As a family historian, I spend a lot of time digging for the “why” behind our ancestors’ choices. But when it comes to my only brother—who was four years my junior—the records are much more personal. I don’t actually recall the day he arrived; I have no memory of the hospital trips or who watched me while my mom was away. My true introduction to him didn’t happen in a nursery, but through a camera lens.

In our family archives, I treasure his first milestone photos from a studio called “Baby Butler.” He was dressed in a sharp red and white outfit, sporting a massive, beaming smile and a perfectly round “Charlie Brown” head with hardly any hair. To the world, it’s just a vintage baby picture. To the historian in me, it’s the primary source that marks the exact moment my best friend officially entered my world.

The story of how he got his name, however, is where the family tree gets some interesting branches. My mother wasn’t one for long-winded explanations, but she told me she woke up in the hospital ready to name her only son, only for the nurse to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s already been named.”

My dad had made a “slick” executive decision. He wanted his son to carry a legacy for both the Harrison and the Hayes families, so he dubbed him Eugene Hayes Harrison. We called him “Butch,” but his legal name felt like a bit of payback. You see, Harrison, that’s how we called our dad, never quite got over losing the battle to name me Maybelle! (Thank goodness for small mercies.)

But here is the historian’s “twist”: My mom always suspected the name “Eugene” was a nod to an old flame of Harrison’s named Lugene. He took that secret to the grave eleven years ago, so we’ll never know if he was truly that bold. Regardless, Butch arrived with a name that carried history, a hint of mystery, and a whole lot of heart.

The Takeaway for Us

• Our names are often the first “inheritance” we receive. Whether given out of tradition or a bit of “slick” family drama, they connect us to a past we might not fully understand. Being the keeper of these stories ensures that the “stadium lights” of those we love never truly go out.

Community Challenge

Do you know the story behind your middle name? Does it connect you to a specific branch of your family tree? This week, look into your own “archives”—whether that’s a box of photos or a conversation with an elder—and discover the “why” behind your name.

Scripture & Prayer

• Scripture: “I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.” – Isaiah 43:1
• Prayer: Heavenly Father, we thank You for the names we carry and the families You placed us in. We praise You for the historians and storytellers who keep our memories alive. As we celebrate Butch’s birthday, help us to see the “stadium lights” in our own lives and honor the legacies of those who came before us. Amen.

The Spiritual Seal

Remember: A name might be given by man, but your purpose is authored by God. Even when the earthly record is messy or mysterious, your place in the Book of Life is secure. The light he left behind isn’t a memory—it’s a reflection of the eternal.

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