Call Me Jesus

Not to sound crazy, or to boast about it, but I am the Messiah. No, I’m not the leader of a cult—I don’t even go to church! I’m just a woman whose nickname is Jesús. My real name is Suzie, and my friends often say, “Hey Suz!” when they see me. Say that out loud, and you’ll hear that “Hey Suz” sounds remarkably like the Spanish pronunciation of Jesus!

Even Siri gets it! When my friends say, “Hey Suz,” at the start of a text, and I have Siri read this aloud, it translates as something like, “Jesús, are we still on for coffee this morning?” I always like to reply with, “Yes, after I walk on water and cure a few blind folks, I’ll see you at Starbucks.”

I have a friend named Christina who is also the Messiah. I discovered this because my smartphone can only fit six letters of a contact’s name onto the home screen. This means her name spells the word, Christ. The first time I got a call from Christina, aka Christ, my phone setting was on mute so I didn’t hear it ring. Upon seeing that our holiness himself was listed as a missed call, I went into a frenzy thinking the Lord called and I didn’t even answer the phone! I immediately scrolled to voicemail, but there was nothing, just the missed call…of a lifetime! I mean, everybody wants to talk to God and ask the important questions like, “Why am I here? What did you do with Grandma? And, of course, will I ever win the lottery?” But no, I missed my chance to learn any of these answers! Therefore, I still haven’t won squat in any lottery, and I can only assume that Grandma is sitting on a pedestal within the pearly gates.

All this points to the fact that our names are a big deal! I’m surprised I was so complacent about choosing what my own children would be called for their entire lifetime. At least our family takes plenty of care in picking the right names for our pets.

When we got some goldfish, the names Bob, Fred, Carl, and Norm won by popular vote in our family election. Sadly, we’ve had burials for three of the boys via the tidy bowl in our bathroom. Somehow, we’ve managed to keep one alive. Much to our chagrin, we’re unsure if it’s Bob, Fred, Carl, or Norm. We’ve renamed him Hank. After all, it rhymes with tank.

Then there’s our Pembroke Welsh Corgi. She suffers from allergies, so our veterinarian sent a prescription to our local pharmacy. When it was ready, the loudspeaker at CVS called out, “Ms. Waggles McFlufflybutt, your medicine is available for pickup.” I could hear laughter coming from the adjacent aisles as I made my way to meet with the pharmacist. That’s when he loudly detailed the medication side effects, like foaming at the mouth, fishy breath, and flatulence. By this time, nobody standing behind me knew I was picking up a prescription for a dog! 

I don’t especially care for my own name. So, when I entered the corporate world, it was the perfect time to go by my birth name. After all, Suzanne sounds more elevated and professional than Suzie. I soon discovered it’s easy to forget a new version of yourself after being a certain person for a quarter century! On my first day at the company luncheon, my boss stood to introduce me, and I just sat there eating my salami sandwich. One coworker thought I was deaf. I’m pretty sure the rest just thought I was dumb.  

Finally, there are the names our weather folks attach to hurricanes that hit our coastlines every year. Are there any named Suzie? No, as confirmed by Google. If storms could speak, one called Suzie would probably say something pretty soft like, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry I blew over your backyard umbrella.” But a powerful name, like Carmen, now that packs a punch. I hear her saying, “Sorry, not sorry, that I blew your house to smithereens. But, don’t worry, I’m sure Jake from State Farm will show up wearing his khakis and cover the cost of repairs. Then again, maybe not.”

There’s no doubt that Carmen is an a$$-kicker name. And I accept the fact that I’m a sophomoric and subdued woman named Suzie, who will never grow into the likes of a Suzanne. Besides, Jesús is far superior to any name out there. Carmen’s got nothin’ on that.