by Georgie McIrvin
The quietness within the little village church was almost tangible. Rosa sat alone in the semi-darkness, but only her heart was crying, for Rosa had already shed all the tears her chestnut eyes could produce. The rising moon shone through the colored glass window made of pieces of broken bottles after the hurricane had blown away the beautiful image of St. Cecelia. The soft colors drifted across her stoic face. She showed no emotion, no feelings, no desire for even living. For in her heart was only desolation. At last her thin lips began to move.
"Padre Nuestra, que estas en los cielos�" Why waste the energy on prayer? He did not hear, or if He heard, He did not care. Where was the loving God that the priest talked about before the hurricane? Would a loving God let all her children disappear in the waters? When the mud slid down the mountainside, why didn�t He stop it? Her home, her children, her little farm- all gone. All that she had now was her man and his child she had carried safely within her through the long weeks of searching for her five lost ni�os. Now she was losing even that one.
Manuel had cursed God for sending that storm. He could not be consoled even with her body in the long empty nights that followed. Then at last it was time for the midwife. Rosa prayed that he would find his faith again when she could hand him a new, healthy child. But little Azulita had been weak and thin. The house that Manuel had built from twigs and woven banana leaves did little to keep out the rains, so Rosa moved her cooking fire inside to help warm the wheezing baby. But as the weeks past, it became harder and harder for her to breathe. Each gasp for air caused her frail little body to shudder.
She had taken the baby several times to the hospital in La Paz where they had given her oxygen, and that helped for a few hours, but before Rosa could walk the 12 kilometers back to her village, the little girl was struggling for life again. Rosa now was preparing herself to give yet another child to this merciless God. But Manuel did love the scrawny little thing and had taken her to the hospital two days ago and now again today.
"God, why do you want all my children? You have five of my ni�os, do you have to take this one also? This one that Manuel loves so much? Here I sit alone on Christmas Eve in your house. The priest says that you gave your Son for all of us. Don�t you remember what it was like to lose your only child? Where is the miracle of Christmas or have you just run out of miracles for the poor people who have only love to give you?"
At last the tears began to flow again, cleansing her heart as they washed clean streaks down her brown dusty face. She slowly moved from the rough-hewn bench, and by the pale moonlight out into the rutted narrow street. Just as she was approaching the little twig house, she saw Manual rushing toward her with that little bundle clutched to his heart that could only be the body of little Azulita. But Manuel was smiling.
"Rosa, mi Amante! Look! Look at our little daughter! She is breathing, and look at her color. How rosy her cheeks are. It is a miracle."
Rosa took the tiny girl from her father�s arms, and he was right. She was still thin and scrawny, but she breathed evenly and quietly. "But what did they do?" she asked in bewilderment. "The oxygen has never helped her like this before."
Manuel was talking so fast that she had trouble understanding his words. "Remember I told you that when I was at the hospital two days ago two Gringos came. They were with the Supervisor. I don�t know why they were there, but the woman was taking the photographs of everything. The tall Gringo looked very closely at all the equipment, and he asked a lot of questions. He passed by me and Azulita in the emergency room, and he stopped and just looked at her for a long time. His eyes were wet with tears."
"But, Manuel, that was two days ago."
"I know, mi Dulcita, but today the Supervisor said that the tall Gringo had returned to bring a thing, a kind of machine, called a nebulizer. She put medicine in it, and then put a mask over our little one�s face. In just no time she was breathing like this. The Supervisor said that if we bring her back twice a week to breathe in the mask, that our little Azulita will grow and be strong like our other children were. God has used the Gringo to make a miracle."
Rosa bowed her head. "Padre Neustra que estas en los cielos, gracias. Thank you, Dear Father, for giving your Christmas miracle to us."