Jesus Loves Ellen

There is nothing very funny or interesting about me right now. My depression and anxiety have gotten the best of me as of late and it is all I can do to breathe without crying, much less be entertaining for millions of readers the world over. I don't know if it is the adoption process that is getting to me, or a nasty e-mail I received earlier in the week, or PMS, but whatever it is, I just can't shake it. So, since I am busy being the Martha Stewart of pity parties, I figure I can either promise you all five dollars to keep reading, or I can I tell you a story about someone who is always funny and interesting -- my Mom, Ellen. Yeah, that's better than money...

My Mom was raised in a Catholic family, which meant as soon as she was old enough to understand the pain of a ruler smack she was shipped off to Catholic school. The children that do best in Catholic school are the ones that are quiet and docile, that love rules, and crave order, and that believe if they step out of line Jesus will barbecue their soul for all eternity. My mother was not one of these children, and so was constantly in trouble from the time she first entered school, until the day she was kicked out. I think she probably always knew the day was coming, but no one had any idea how spectacular her exit would be.

The school my Mom attended was called St. Mary's of the Wasatch, was run by a bunch of nuns, and guarded over by a large bronze statue of Jesus with his arms outstretched on the back field. By the time Ellen was a student the school was in it's last days, about to be sold and replaced with expensive homes. Almost every part of it was in disrepair, including the Jesus statue, which has lost a hand to Utah's harsh winters freezing the metal over and over again. Nowhere in the bible had my Mother read about Jesus only having one hand, so she decided to help a savior out -- by making him a hook.

The way she tells the story, making the hook was a breeze, but getting it on was the hard part. The statue was at least eight feet tall, and she, like me, is a midget. She had to climb up into Jesus' arms in order to place it, with her friend Jenny pushing her up and holding her legs. Of course, once she was up there, and the hook was placed, my Mom didn't want all of her hard work to go to waste, so she asked Jenny to take a picture of her. Jenny ran back into the school to get her camera, and Ellen waited there with Jesus, contemplating her awesomeness.

Then the nuns came out.

Ellen looked up into Jesus' face and said "if you have ever done a miracle, please do it now."

My Mom says that it took her thirty minutes to get up into the statue's arms, and it took the nuns thirty seconds to get her down. She doesn't remember a lot after that, except that her locker was cleaned out, her father was called, and the housekeeper came to pick her up. The next week she started at the public high school down the hill.

She didn't last at that school either, but that's a story for another time. No wonder she is such an excellent teacher, because there is nothing any kid can do that she doesn't done before, and done more spectacularly, so she sees no bad kids. They all have value in her eyes, and they feel that. Oh, and they love her stories.

Wow, I am actually feeling better now. Thanks, Mom.