The Courage to Name What Matters

Sometimes the universe sends you exactly the reminder you need

Yesterday, an email landed in my inbox that made my heart skip.

“Hi Hope, I hope you don’t mind me reaching out...”

The sender? Sarah Paterson. Her question? About her newborn daughter—Hope Paterson.

Yes, you read that right. Another Hope Paterson is about to enter this world.

But Sarah wasn’t writing to celebrate this beautiful coincidence. She was writing because she was scared. Five days before registering her daughter’s name, doubt had crept in. Her 5-year-old, Gracie, came home in tears because a friend said “Hope won’t like her name when she’s older.”

Now Sarah was questioning everything.

Should she change the name? Was Hope too unusual? Too much of a burden?

Reading her words, I felt that familiar tug in my chest—the one that happens when the universe hands you a mirror.

The Weight of Being Different

Let me tell you something about growing up as Hope in London in the 1980s.

I wanted to be Sarah. Or Jennifer. Or Claire. All the names that rolled off tongues easily, that teachers never stumbled over, that other kids never questioned.

“Hope? That’s a weird name.”

I heard it more times than I can count. And each time, I felt that particular sting that comes from standing out when all you want to do is belong.

My mother, Robin Hope (yes, Hope was her middle name), never wavered. “That’s your name,” she’d say with fierce certainty. No negotiation. No apologies.

At the time, I thought she was being stubborn.

Now I know she was being wise.

When Children Test Our Compass

Here’s what I’ve learned as a coach, as a mother of two teenagers, as someone who’s spent decades helping people navigate change:

Children aren’t just reacting to what we say or do. They’re feeling into our energy around what matters to us.

When Gracie came home crying about her baby sister’s name, she wasn’t really questioning the name Hope. She was testing something deeper: How solid are my parents in knowing what’s right for our family?

This is the work, isn’t it? The daily practice of trusting our own compass instead of letting every voice around us redirect our path.

How many of us are living our lives according to 5-year-old Clare’s opinions? How many dreams have we abandoned, names we’ve changed, paths we’ve altered because someone else’s discomfort made us doubt what we knew to be true?

My Letter to Sarah

I wrote back to Sarah immediately. Told her to register that beautiful name with complete confidence. Shared my own story of growing from discomfort to deep pride in carrying Hope as my name.

But mostly, I wanted her to understand this:

Her daughter will grow into her name the same way I did—with purpose, power, and the deep knowing that she carries something extraordinary.

The Responsibility of Our Names

The older I get, the more I understand that my name isn’t just a label. It’s a responsibility. A daily reminder of what I’m here to cultivate in the world.

Hope isn’t just optimism. It’s courage in the face of uncertainty. It’s the willingness to plant seeds you may never see bloom. It’s the fierce belief that what’s possible is always bigger than what’s visible.

My son Alfie wants to name his first daughter Hope. My daughter Sophia Grace (who, ironically, wishes she had a more unusual name) is fighting him for the rights to it.

The girl who once wanted to be Sarah now has children competing to carry on her name.

That’s the alchemy of growing into who you are instead of who everyone else thinks you should be.

My Invitation

So here’s my question for you:

Where in your life are you letting other people’s discomfort shape your choices?

Where are you playing small, choosing the safer path, the more conventional option because it’s easier to blend in than to stand out?

Maybe it’s not about names. Maybe it’s about:

• The business idea that feels too bold

• The move you want to make that others don’t understand

• The way you want to parent that doesn’t match the handbook

• The career pivot that makes your family nervous

• The relationship choice that raises eyebrows

• The creative expression that feels too vulnerable

Teaching Our Children to Trust Their Compass

If you’re a parent, here’s the deeper invitation:

Your children are watching to see how solidly you stand in what matters to you.

When you waver every time someone questions your choices, you teach them that external opinions matter more than internal knowing.

When you stand firm in your values—with kindness, with confidence, with love—you give them permission to do the same.

This doesn’t mean being rigid or closed to feedback. It means knowing the difference between wisdom that serves and noise that distracts.

What’s in a Name

By the time you read this, there will officially be another Hope Paterson in the world.

And I couldn’t be more thrilled.

Because the world needs more people willing to carry hope—not just as a feeling, but as a practice. As a way of moving through life that says: I believe in what’s possible, even when I can’t see it yet.

Whether your name is Hope or Sarah or Jennifer or something completely unique, the question remains the same:

Will you trust your compass? Will you teach your children to trust theirs?

The 5-year-old Clares of the world will always have opinions.

But you get to choose whose voice carries weight in your life.

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P.S. Sarah, if you’re reading this—welcome to the sisterhood. Your Hope is going to love her name. And when she’s old enough, send her my way. I’d love to share notes on what it means to carry possibility as your calling card.

Your turn: What choice are you making (or avoiding) because you’re worried about what others will think? Tell me in the comments—sometimes naming it is the first step to claiming it.

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If this resonated, please share it with someone who needs permission to trust their own compass. And if you’re navigating your own threshold moment, let’s talk—I specialize in helping people find their way back to what they know to be true.