An ExtraOrdinary Christmas
A section of the pedriatic ward.
The last few days before the 24th I was casually chatting with individuals from the Hoover Mennonites (often mistaken for Amish) from Springfield and Birdwalk in the central highlands, piecing together a narrative of what Christmas would be like in such a rigid and disciplined conservative community. You see even though they are much more conservative than their Old Colony cousins in the north, they are also much more open-minded in religion and tolerance of the cultures around them. I had been debating whether I should pay some friends a surprise visit to observe how they celebrate Christmas. They do not. Can you imagine? No special gatherings, no ham or turkey, no chicken BBQ, no tamales, no staying up until midnight on the 24th, no firecrackers, no special church service, no Christmas carolling, no handing out baskets of goodies, no rows of cookies decorated with red and green icing, no children's Christmas program, no nothing. I could not imagine.
A typical farmhouse in Springfield, a Hoover Mennonite colony in the Cayo District
Our own Christmas turned into a terrifying nightmare when our 6-month-old baby rapidly became gravely ill with pneumonia. Toward the wee hours of a sleepless night we realized something was very wrong. He was taking shallow breaths, made efforts to cough but did not have the strength to follow through, would fall limply back, and couldn't nurse due to high amounts of phlegm. At the local clinic a nurse informed us that it was highly possible that it was pneumonia and that he needed a doctor immediately. But before we carried him to a doctor, we brought him to the Doctor. The pastor of our current church as well as a pastor from childhood both put their hands on him and prayed over him before we even attempted to find a physical doctor. Later our efforts to find a private doctor or hospital during the holidays was futile. We met with one closed door after another and finally were about to do something I had never imagined: head to the closest local government hospital. Due to the many negative stories of patient neglect, over-crowded ICU's, short staff, wrong prescriptions, and apparent carelessness at this one particular hospital, it was the last place we would want to visit in an emergency. But it was better than nothing.
Someone suggested another better equipped public hospital farther away. We raced our little one there and sighed with relief. The emergency doors had barely opened when strong, capable hands were already in control. A few minutes later he had been connected to the oxygen tank, a device for clearing his lungs was placed over his mouth, other nurses scurried around readying an IV while others prepared to run some tests. The result showed pneumonia with an infected right lung.
Our brave little fighter is alive by the grace and mercy of God. I will never forget the sight of our little one fighting hard to survive. For as long as I live I will see him thrashing his arms and legs, as he took one shallow breath after another. Neither will we ever forget the way family and friends poured out their support for us in money, time and most important of all: prayer. In spite of the dark valley, the true "reason for the season" shone through as we experienced a Christmas like no other.
A. Mendoza
