Mennonites in Belize

     A Holdeman Mennonite church and school Four hundred years ago Shakespeare wondered, "What's in a name?" After all, it is our focus on the object that distinguishes it, not the letters or words which refer to it. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet" .   While I admire Shakespeare, the time has come to deviate from his philosophy and instead carve out our own.   It commenced when the board of the private Mennonite school which our daughter attended suddenly announced that they were not planning on re-opening the coming school term. Nor was there any indication of when it would be in operation again. A rather hard blow for us since the time for student registration in other schools was nearly past.   A few years ago a blog reader reached out to me about the schools available in and around Spanish Lookout. I endeavored my utmost to assist him, without the remotest idea that we would be in his shoes in the ne...

      How do you react when a link to your past is no more? When a person, or place, or object, or institution impacted you so profoundly that even when you drift away on life's no return road, you glance over your shoulder just to assure yourself it's still there? Such was the case with my childhood school. Founded in the mid-1990's, constructed of gray cinder block with sheet metal roofing, wooden shutters and a concrete floor, this plain one-room church-administered Mennonite school was the place where I experienced bullying for at least two years, the place where I realized I was visually impaired, where I was firmly taught conservative values and strict adherence to church doctrines, yet silently wondered about some of the religious practices, where the teacher always joined us on the playground and made sure everyone played together. My eight grades were spent here, later on my daughter was enrolled here. Although I left the traditional church many years ago, in my ...