“Mims”

There is something deeply profound about a name. Names carry stories, identities, histories, and even prophecies. My journey with names is a testament to this truth. Born Miriam Melissa Gaylord, I became a Driscoll when I got married, and in 2017, I legally changed my name to Elle Driscoll-Miller. Today, I find myself returning to my roots, embracing the name Miriam more fully than I ever have in my entire life, accompanied by the nickname Mims.

For over 25 years, I've been involved in prophetic and revelatory ministry. In this space, I’ve witnessed the magnificent and the messy, the divine and the disappointing. I've seen the prophetic serve as a beautiful, powerful revelation of God’s heart. Conversely, I’ve also seen it misused and manipulated by those seeking personal gain or validation. It’s heartbreaking to watch such a sacred gift become a tool for self-promotion, often without the essential foundation of love and humility.

My journey in ministry has at times been marred by moments when the prophetic was handled carelessly, like clanging gongs seeking attention rather than true edification. Yet, amidst these challenges, I have also encountered the mature expression of the prophetic—a gift that genuinely reveals God’s love and guidance. This duality has shaped my perspective, allowing me to discern the authentic from the counterfeit.

Years ago, during a season when I was known as Mims, I received a word from someone considered a "loose cannon" by those I trusted. Unaware of my history with my name, this individual spoke about a time when I would accept my name, Miriam. No one acknowledged that there was something to the word, and I was given room to dismiss it as the source it came from was on the fringe "anyway."

At that time, few people called me Miriam—primarily my mother and brother. It was endearing to me that my brother called me Miriam, and my mom had permission to call me by my given name. I never knew the one I was named after, but my mom did, and from what I hear, she was a beautiful human being. Changing my name in 2017 was a step I took for personal space and clarity. Despite the change, my mother and brother continued to call me whatever they chose, a testament to the unique space family occupies in our lives. I didn't hold onto that word for 30 years. It wasn't until recently, as my heart turned towards the name Miriam, that I remembered the word and the individual and actually repented for dismissing something that God had indeed given. I just wasn't ready to receive it.

In 2024, life has taken many turns. My heart and being feel more whole than ever before. In this season, there’s an ache, a longing to return to my name, Miriam. This summer, I've been in spaces where people who know me as Mims surrounded me. It felt like a breath of fresh air, a return to something authentic and familiar.

Naming is a fascinating process. As a mother of six, naming my children has been one of the greatest honors of my life. There is power in a name—it shapes identity and destiny. My return to Miriam isn’t just about a name; it’s about coming home to myself. That word given to me over 30 years ago, from someone I would have dismissed as being on the fringes, now feels profoundly accurate. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most significant revelations come from unexpected sources.

This season feels like a homecoming, a return to the truest version of myself. Embracing Miriam is a symbol of embracing my past, my identity, and the prophetic words spoken over me. It’s a journey of recognizing the power of names and the stories they hold.

As I step into this new chapter, I invite you to reflect on your own names and identities. What stories do they tell? What prophecies do they hold? And how can embracing them bring you closer to your true self?