I’m glad I depicted my name in such big, bright letters in that cross stitch we looked at yesterday, because it’s not a name you see very often. Here it is on my first book cover. I know it’s not a great example of humility, but being the only Keren anywhere always made me feel a bit special (unless I was trying to find it on a key ring, and then it made me annoyed). Still today when I tell people it’s a name from the Bible, I get blank looks. Even from vicars. But it is rather hidden away, a bit like me.
Kerenhappuch was one of three sisters, the second lot of Job’s daughters, born after his restoration. I hope that there will be some poetic justice in my naming, and that I will get to have my own second half of life blessings. I’ve always felt that I would, in the bones of my name.
This is a thought that keeps me going, especially when people call me Karen, which they do a lot, particularly when using predictive text! It’s a nice name, but it’s not my name, you see. I like my name, it fits me, and it feels heavy with potential, with possibilities. Even if in the long form it does mean “horn of eyelash paint.” I maybe an Old Testament bottle of mascara, but I am still a daughter who was granted an inheritance along with her brothers.
Photo and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017