Christmas in Honduras

When I first applied for this program, one of the things I most feared was being away from my family—especially for Christmas. Like most families, Christmas is a joyful celebration of food, presents, Christmas decorations, and the love we share. The magic and excitement of Christmas gifts and visits from Santa as a child has now grown into a deep sense of gratitude for a day that seems magically reserved for everyone and everything I love. There is just something in the air in my house for Christmas—we all become beautifully aware of how blessed we are and it is a day that we all look forward to sharing together. It is a day full of delicious food, excitement, sincere giving, love, and Christmas touches that are O’Toole unique. And so in anticipation for this year, I expected that Christmas would be hard—and it has been. Throughout the day, my mind traveled back home to sit at the end of the table for dinner or sit on a couch to open presents and each time when I found myself back here, my heart sank a little. Thinking about my dog wearing or eating his antlers or who got to put baby Jesus in the manager or looking at the picture of Grace and I in Santa hats from last year reminded me just one more time how painfully I missed home.

I do not write all this to sound like the Grinch but to share with you the struggle that Christmas brought me. When I thought about this email, I had hoped that it would be similar to the optimistic Thanksgiving reflection that I wrote. But as I write this, I find it becoming less optimistic and maybe slightly more bittersweet.

As Christmas time approaches, there are normally little signs that signify the day is near and that the Christmas spirit is around. For me, I think about coming back home from college and putting up our Christmas tree and our decorations. Christmas candy starts appearing in the stores and the temperature is a little colder. All of my family makes their way home and I start buying Christmas gifts. This is when I know Christmas is near. But, here in Honduras, Christmas came a little differently. With no college to mark the beginning of Christmas break, no stores selling any different candy, and the temperatures still pretty high during the day, it was hard to tell that Christmas was coming. You could easily have thought we were in the middle of March. And so our signs for the arrival of Christmas were slightly different. With three major Christmas projects, we immersed ourselves in a month of heavy work that kept us both busy and distracted. Firstly, we were donated six huge bags of beans—so we bagged them and partnered them with bags of rice to give to one of the poorest neighborhoods in Talanga. We handed out over 300 bags of rice and beans. Secondly, with the money we raised from the big expoventa sale, we started a three tier toy project to give toys to Camalotal (a nearby aldea), Telerevista (a local TV program), and then to a handful of poor areas of Talanga. In total, we handed out 350 toys—and they were all wrapped. And then lastly, we worked with the children of Terrero Colorado and Louis, the choir director, to put together a Nativity play. And so for me, the signs of Christmas coming were the coming dates of these projects. Talk of making elaborate Nativity scenes in homes and baking catamales became common among the people as we started learning the Christmas traditions here and the days started ticking down.

And then Christmas Eve arrived. In Honduras, Christmas is Christmas Eve and all the big celebrations are on the eve as opposed to the day. This Eve put the sweet in my somewhat bittersweet Christmas time. It could not have been better and as I was experiencing it all, I could not stop thinking how lucky I was to be in Talanga and Honduras for this night. Our night started with the performance of the Nativity play in Terrero Colorado at 6 o’clock. However, it had slipped our mind that Terrero does not have electricity and thus no lights. And so by the light of one gas lantern hanging from the ceiling of the little Church perched on the side of a hill, the children performed the Christmas story. It was beautiful—and it was one of my signs that Christmas was here. The Church was packed and when the carols came up in the play, the whole Church sang along. And that’s when I knew my Christmas was here. I got chills and realized that maybe above everything this was what Christmas truly was. Sitting in that simple ten wooden bench Church with the decorations of crepe paper and a tiny tree, I thought about where I was and how I was celebrating Christmas and my heart gleamed with joy. A prayer was said by the leader of the group and as we all held hands, prayers of strength were asked for us and protection for our families far from us.

With some quick goodbyes and catamales in hand, we headed back to Talanga for the 8 o’clock mass. New clothes are a Christmas tradition here and Hondurans love to dress up. Matt had pants made and the rest of scrounged through our suitcases to find something a little dressier than normal. And so we made our way to Church to find out that the power transformer for that neighborhood had gone out. Without light or microphones, the mass was lit by little candles down the aisle and candles on the altar. A simple celebration of a simple birth.

After the mass, the streets of Talanga came alive with families and friends visiting house to house in excitement for midnight. We made our way to Isabel’s, my host mum’s, and ate dinner with her family. Laughter was our music at this house as we played with fireworks, new toys, and cameras. We dined on chicken and rice and potatoes and tortillas and lounged on couches joking and playing. Our celebrations then moved to the streets where we all became children playing with sparklers and watching the ‘tricky tracks’ go off and the ‘mariposas’ flying high. With some photos taken, we headed off to Prof. Daniel’s house. Prof. Daniel is the wise owl of Talanga and knows someone in every office and seems to own half of Talanga too. At his house, the festivities were well underway. With good food and drinks, everybody was having fun. Fatima, a member of our formation team, and her boyfriend and half of her family were there and the good cheer of the night continued with some very interesting Mexican dancing. When midnight arrived, everyone jumped up to give hugs and Feliz Navidads to each other. And the second meal of the night. Another tradition in Honduras is to eat at midnight on Christmas. And so we dined on our second meal of chicken and rice. As an hour or so passed by, we headed to Tyler’s host mom’s house. She lives right near the Church and they were still without power and so we arrived in the house to find them eating and talking by the light of the moon. Our Christmas Eve continued by moonlight to conversations about family and a proud mom retelling stories about her son. By the light of candle, Tyler and Angel tried to put together a puzzle. As another hour passed by, we headed home to a wrapping paper roll fight and then finally to bed at 3:45am.A night of laughter, joy, and friendship that warms the heart and made the night one of the best so far in Honduras.

Christmas day was harder. Since the 25th really isn’t a celebration here, the day passed more or less like a normal day and it was hard to feel the Christmas spirit. I have already mentioned that Christmas was difficult and so I won’t bore you with countless details—but it was tough.

And so my bittersweet Christmas came and went with the beauty of celebrating the Christmas story by the light of a lantern and in the innocence of children, the simplicity of a candlelit mass, the warmth of laughter and joy shared with friends, and the deep gratitude for having a family and memories to miss incredibly so.

Merry Christmas to all and hope it was a beautiful, simple, warm, and thankful day.