THE GRATITUDE NAME

OLUWASEUN ADEMULEGUN

What’s your name?

Dale Carnegie famously observed, “A person’s name is to him or her the sweetest and most important sound in any language.”

Growing up, I was known as “Ayotomiwa,” a name that followed me from childhood into my teens. It was beautiful and uncommon; throughout my eight cumulative years across two different primary schools in different states, I encountered only one person with a similar name: Oyetomiwa.

I’m not sure why “Tomiwa” became my everyday name among all the others I was christened, but that’s what I grew up answering to. However, somewhere along the way, I discovered that wasn’t my official name. When I entered secondary school, I made the switch to “Oluwaseun”—a name that had previously existed only on paper, unused and unfamiliar. Surprisingly, the transition was seamless; I never once accidentally introduced myself as Tomiwa in my new environment. Oluwaseun took root, though a few who knew me originally still call me Tomiwa.

In secondary school, among all my classmates, only one other student and I bore native Yoruba names. This shouldn’t have mattered; after all, Tomiwa was also a Yoruba name, and I’d never had issues with it before. Yet something shifted. I began to feel uncomfortable with my Yoruba identity. My younger siblings were called by their English names, my friends had English names, and gradually, I grew dissatisfied with mine.

The depth of this dissatisfaction became clear when my mother considered switching my younger siblings from their English names to their Yoruba ones. Though I said nothing, inwardly I bristled at the idea. Fortunately, she didn’t follow through.

But then something changed—not physically, but mentally, through a revelational understanding of what my name truly meant.

As I approach a milestone birthday this year, reflection brought my name before me with fresh eyes, as if I were hearing it for the first time ever. The meaning of Oluwaseun unfolded in dimensions I’d never considered, and I was amazed that the name I’d underappreciated for fourteen years since the switch suddenly became something I couldn’t stop marvelling at.

Oluwaseun literally means “God has done something,” which is wonderful because it contains an assumption that every “something” God does is good. That’s why it’s also used as an expression of appreciation for God’s actions, translated simply as “Thank God.”

World-famous singer and songwriter Nathaniel Bassey captured this sentiment perfectly:

This is not just a lovely song 

This is the story of my days

I’m a product of your grace  

I won’t be here without your love

After all is said and done

I am who I am because of You

What can I give for all this love?

What can I say but give You thanks?

Words fail me when I attempt to express God’s faithfulness in my life. My heart overflows with joy and gratitude when I consider all of God’s goodness.

Oluwaseun isn’t merely my name; it’s a testament to God’s work in my life. This revelation hasn’t just changed my perspective about bearing a Yoruba name; it has repositioned my heart toward gratitude in every situation. My name declares a profound truth: God is always at work.

As I step into this new phase of life, my heart compass—now repositioned toward gratitude—will remind me through my very name that God never ceases His activity. Even when His work isn’t visible, I believe there’s always something in progress. At no moment is He absent from the business of working in and through me to accomplish His good pleasure.

©Oluwaseun Victoria Ademulegun