What's in the name... Jeff (part two)
Hi friend,
This week's episode is a "Part 2", and these might be my favorite kind. We get to peel the onion a little further into the meaning of Jeff's name, and I also incorporate a discussion on grief. This episode was the most emotional one that I've published to date.
Jeff was one of my very first guests over two years ago when I first started the podcast. I've known him for more than 18 years, since before I had kids. We worked together at a little company in Spokane Valley, I got my first dog from him, and even with 2,000 miles between us, he's one of the greatest human beings I know.
So much has changed for both of us since that first conversation.
The name that became a value.
Jeff already knew what his name meant the first time he came on the show. Depending on who you ask, it's God's peace, God of peace, or peaceful God.
What changed is what he did with it.
Since our first episode, he walks into hard conversations reminding himself that his job is to bring peace to that one small interaction. Not to the whole world. Just to the person in front of him. He wants people to leave the conversation feeling more peaceful than when they started.
His words: his name went from a bit of trivia he shared at parties, to a value statement. I value peace. I value bringing peace. I value giving peace.
And when he looked back over his life, he realized he'd been living that value long before he knew it was his.
Why parents should put thought into a name.
I asked Jeff whether parents should look up the meaning of the name they choose. Jeff brought up the opening scene of The Lion King (corny, he admits, but he loves it anyway).
His point: naming a child is a chance to give them a vision for their life. But it only works if you tell them the story. Over and over. Kids are always asking "who am I to you?" and hearing the meaning of their name throughout childhood becomes a kind of prayer of repetition. In the best way, a self-fulfilling prophecy.
He and his wife never had a single baby name argument. They had each been holding the same name for their daughter in their hearts since before they ever met. Their daughter has heard her whole life that she belonged in this family before day one.
Peace on the hardest days.
Almost two years ago, Jeff lost his wife unexpectedly. He was the one who found her.
I asked whether the meaning of his name helped him through it. He said yes, even in the early days, he held onto one thing: there's still peace ahead. There's still joy to be had. There are still good days coming.
He was honest that there were whole weeks where all he could do was stare at the wall. Some days the best he could do was get out of bed. Some days he didn't.
But as he put it, he may not have peace today. That doesn't mean it's not out there.
Walk through it or numb out.
I told Jeff that after dropping my son off at military college, I kept saying out loud, "I don't want to feel this way."
His response stuck with me. We really only have two choices: walk through it or numb out. And grief doesn't respect your schedule, your job, your kids, or the fact that dinner still needs to get made. It demands your full attention, on its timeline.
He also said something I keep coming back to. We're not called to resolve tension. We're called to live in it. Sadness and excitement about the same change can both be true at once.
What not to say, and what to do instead.
This was the part of the conversation I think every single person should hear.
Jeff said a lot of the unhelpful things people say, like "she's in a better place," come from the speaker's own discomfort. Your grief makes them uncomfortable, so they say something to make themselves feel better.
His advice: the best thing you can say is often nothing at all. That doesn't mean don't show up. It means grieving people rarely need advice. They need someone to sit in the ashes with them.
And most people don't realize how long that lasts. People lean in right after a loss, then slowly lean back out. Jeff lost most of his friend circle, not because they were bad people, but because he couldn't hold up his end and they couldn't carry more than their half.
The friends who stayed? They don't do anything flashy. They send a text. "Thinking about you today." Two years later, they still check in.
Grief doesn't get smaller. You grow bigger around it.
Jeff explained re-grieving, a term he learned while watching his daughter go through therapy. Every new school year, every milestone, every moment she can't share with her mom brings the grief back up. And it happens to all of us, at birthdays, holidays, or just walking through a farmer's market and seeing flowers his wife would have loved.
He was clear that grief isn't a competition. My grief over my son leaving to go to college out of state is just as real and worthwhile as his.
And he left me with this: when we sit with each other in grief, we each walk out carrying a little of the other person's grief. Somehow, we leave carrying more, and yet we feel lighter.
He called being able to carry his friends' griefs his greatest blessing.
If you've only got five minutes...
- 04:55 How Jeff turned "God's peace" into a daily practice
- 14:48 Why the story behind a name matters for kids
- 27:15 Walking through grief instead of numbing out
- 41:36 What not to say to someone who is grieving
- 64:17 The small, consistent things that actually help
Two things to try this week...
- Send the text. Think of someone who lost someone a year ago, or five years ago, and tell them you're thinking about them today. Don't wait for the anniversary.
- Tell the story of a name. If you're a parent, share why you chose your child's name. If you're not, ask someone about theirs. You never know what it might unlock.
Thank you, Jeff, for giving me your time, your energy, and your honesty, even on the questions that were hard to answer. We're not made to do this alone.
Until next time,
Jayma (aka your "Paradigm Shifter")
