My name is Keri Leigh.
Keri is a variant of the Welsh Ceri, or the Irish/Gaelic Kerry, and means “black.”
As long as I can remember, I’ve always shied away from bright, happy things: bouncy, catchy songs, vibrant colors, and sunny days. I am a little dark—a little morose in my preferences—and to be honest, it’s something that I love about myself. I love the rain and sad songs and photography in black and white. I love ravens and their metaphors and stories with tragic endings because sometimes a sad ending is the only right one for a writer to write.
Leigh means “field,” or “plain,” and I think I resented that for a long while.
There was nothing about it to which I could relate and I hated the idea of being compared to an empty field or a barren place without purpose. It’s just a common name nestled between a first and last, one few people would ever know made only slightly more interesting by its exotic spelling. Together with my first name, Leigh sounds a little too Sweet Home Alabama for my taste, and hardly seems fitting for me—for who I am. I’m a firm believer that a name defines a person, and God forms us according to the name we will have.
So why did God call me Black Field?
It’s so obvious when you put it together, and I love how His kindness shows in the name that He gave me now that I understand it. It’s well known that rich soil is dark, thick with nutrients essential for supporting abundant life. I won’t go too deeply into the circle of life BS (mostly because I think people love the sentiment more than they do the truth of it), but I will say this: black soil is the foundation for birth, for growth, and rest in death.
…and while, for now, I may perceived as barren, God is doing a work in me that will produce fruit, children or no. With all my heart I want to be brimming with life and good things.
And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.