New Life. New Name.

I want to share a story with you. A story of a little girl by the name Xenia.

Xenia lived in Costa Rica with her mother and father, two older sisters, and her baby brother. They lived in poverty—in a shack with a tin roof and dirt floors. Her mother stayed home to care for her kids and did the best she could. Her father was an abusive, alcoholic. Despite her sisters' efforts to collect money on the streets for food, their father prioritized alcohol over their well-being. At the age of two, Xenia’s mother died of a blood clot in the lungs, leaving a baby, a two year-old, a six and seven-year-old behind. At the news of her death, Xenia’s father wanted nothing to do with them, so he left. They were taken in by their grandmother and aunt and soon put up in an orphanage to protect them from their abusive father. One year. Two years. Two and half years went by in the orphanage, and little did Xenia know that God had better plans for her. Plans for a better home. Plans to become a chosen daughter. Plans that would give her a new life and a new name.

New life.

This is my story. A story that came from a broken past. A story of redemption. Hope. Adoption. A story of a little orphan girl, becoming a chosen daughter of the King. God knew I would have a rough start to my story. God also knew I would need parents to save me from a broken past, and He made provisions for my siblings and I to be adopted into an amazing home. From the tropical paradise of Costa Rica (not our views), to the corn fields of Iowa, this little orphan girl and her siblings came home. 

New name.

Did you have a favorite Disney character growing up? Surprisingly, mine was Flower, the sweet and bashful skunk from Bambi. I was so captivated by the character that I insisted everyone call me “Flower” when I played pretend.

One day, my adoptive parents shared something remarkable with me—they told me that my birth name in Costa Rica was Xenia, pronounced just like the Zinnia flower.

"Why didn’t you keep my old name?" I asked.

Their response was simple yet profound: “When we adopted you, we didn’t just want to give you a new life—we wanted to give you a new name. You belong to us. You are our daughter.”

Though my name changed outwardly, it symbolized something much deeper. It wasn’t just about adopting a new name; it was about stepping into a new identity—one that reflected belonging, love, and transformation. Embracing this truth helped me understand what it means to be a cherished daughter of God. My old name, my old life, no longer defined me. I was made new, given a fresh purpose, and called by a name that spoke of love and belonging.

No matter where we come from or what our past may hold, we have a new identity in Christ. When we place our faith in Him, we are adopted into His family and given a new name—one that declares who we truly are: Beloved. Daughters. Set free. Loved. Forgiven. Chosen. Accepted. Redeemed.

As I’ve grown in my journey with Jesus, I’ve come to realize that we were never meant to walk this road alone. We were made for community. We were made to share the goodness and love of Jesus with one another—because a love this great can’t be kept to ourselves. If His love has transformed us and given us purpose, then it’s worth sharing, proclaiming, and living out every single day.