Excerpt #1 - from my book

My book is a "Life Essay" i.e. Autobiography (but that word sounds so much more droll than Life Essay!)  It is my journey.


Would love feedback on the below excerpt - grammar, word usage, content, does it make sense, is it boring, wordy...
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A name is a respecter of persons - or so I’m told.  Apparently, a long time ago, they would sometimes wait until a baby began showing personality before they would name the child.  The name would then be based on the child’s character and individuality.  I don’t know why my parents chose my name other than they liked the sound of it. It seemed to me there was nothing special or romantic about choosing my name (or so I thought).   It didn’t seem worth all the misspellings on the first day of school.  Or how the Sunday school teacher would always call me "Laurie".  My friend in the first grade was Lisa.  No one said her name wrong. No one even spelled it wrong.   Lisa was a great name.  I asked her while we were playing outside for recess one day if she minded if I used her name as my name too. She shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t care.  I was pleased.  However,  upon returning home from school and stating my declaration to be called “Lisa,” my parents were not impressed.  My new name ceased to exist.  When I was in high school I looked into what my name meant.  Lauren means “crowned with laurels.”  Suddenly, my  name took on definition and I began to find ownership in it.  There was a heritage, a royalty in being crowned.

From as far back as I can remember, I wanted to know that I was unique.  Somehow that I had a purpose written by the hand of God himself over my heart.  I wanted to know that if you put me in a life size can and shook me all up inside, that what spilled out of me when you opened the can was beautiful and inspiring.  Sure being pretty was definitely a dream (what girl doesn’t dream about beauty?).  Was it possible to go beyond just the form and the face and that beneath, behind and around the external I was molded together with whispers of destiny spoken into me before I was even born?  The thought of having such a life seemed almost too good to be true.  I can still hear those cravings tugging at my spirit.  Even now as a woman, the yearning to hold, and possess within me such essential purpose boils over into awe that it could be true. Could it actually be true that I have been created with sublime purpose?  I also hear the rattle of the lies below that have been there for as long as I can remember.  I can hear the squeals of laughter that spit out from somewhere deep inside of me, a place that scares me.  Laughing over the very thought of this little Lauren being of consequence.  Those peals of laughter are so loud and clamorous some days that I feel the weight of disappointment descend heavy on me. Sometimes I carry the dark blanket of hope deferred, listening to the deafening voices of  despair.  “Not you, not in this lifetime,” they tell me.  “Only on the perfect shores of eternity can you be that purposeful someone”.    And yet, even on those dark, consuming days, there is sewn (long ago I think) into the fabric of my being, hope. Hope that the truth stands stronger and taller than the lies.