an old post from an old blog…but still holds true
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With holy week upon us (for us Christians) I find it fitting to tell you about the origin of my lovely but stereotypical name, Jesús. The story takes place in 1980s Brooklyn, NY. My mom was pregnant with me, her last child and only boy. For some reason or another I severely messed up her insides. Oh I was also a preemie. Come the day of my birth (May 28) my mom was in probably the worst pain she’s ever been. The doctors told my family that it would be a miracle if she and I survive the birth. No one told my mom but being a woman she had an instinct that the situation was grim. So she turned to God, prayed and asked to save me; if I did survive they would name me Jesus in honor of his son. The result: I’m here and so is my mom. So when I get the dumbass jokes that come along with my name I just laugh it off because it was the biggest promise my mom ever made and that Jesus guy is pretty influential. Does your name have a story?
Uno,
Jesús”
