Diploma #2

The last time I was in Mexico I wrote about how my real test of Spanish knowledge did not involve writing exams or recieving diplomas. No, the real test was taking a taxi.

Well, today was my second test/diploma, and it was even more dramatic.

A bit of background: I’ve decided to go home a bit early (Thursday) so as to get some downtime before heading back to work. I’m having fun here, but thinking and speaking Spanish can be a bit tiring, especially given my level of knowledge (or lack thereof). So rather than take another week of classes, I decided to visit Mexico City (see the post for yesterday) and use today and tommorow to develop some personal study notes (i.e. consolidate what I knew) to help me stay fresh once I am back home. Oh, and take a bit of a break too!

But God had other plans. Around 10 am the parish secretary asked for me. There was a (very) young couple in the office, she explained, who had just had a baby (little Leslie Guadelupe). Unforunately the baby was in critical condition in the hospital, and the hospital did not have a chaplain. Given that Padre Roberto was out and was not expected until later this afternoon, could I go and do an emergency baptism?

I’ll admit I had a momentary flash of panic, but how could I say no? So I grabbed the ritual book and a stole, and off we went (the parish secretary came with us, thank God, to help translate not so much the words as the situation).

After going through a decontamination process, we saw the little one. How tiny! She was born with a hole in her abdomen, so some of her intestines actually were outside after birth (a condition called gastroschisis). Two surgeries later, she was still going but was very critical. I explained that I would use the short ritual for emergency baptisms, as it was the most appropriate in this case (heck, godparents had not even been identified yet). To be honest, I’m not sure the parents even noticed how stressed I was, nor do I think they cared about my broken Spanish — they were just glad it was happening.

When it was over I got their names for the baptism register and headed back home with the parish secretary. What an adrenaline rush! You feel glad and nervous all at the same time.

So my Spanish still sucks. After all, it has only been my second week here (sixth if you count my first time in Cuernavaca 18 months ago). But as lousy as it was, it was enough to get a little baby baptised. For me, that’s more than enough for now, and is a real incentive to keep learning.

This post is dated Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010 and is filed under Scenes of priesthood. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.