My Belizean-blood daughter Ludy Paulita McKay–a Latina child with the name that sounds oddly Scottish or Irish or something most un-Latin– turned 4 Saturday.

Miss Belize makes fast friends with everybody, like this girl at Yoli’s Pizza. Click on the pic to enlarge it.
Proving once again that time flies when you’re having fun.
A little more than four years ago an American expat friend introduced me to a good friend of his named Lourdes Vasquez. My friend called her “Ludy” for the simple reason that he thought she “looks like a little Ludy to me.”
“Well of course — that makes total sense to me,” I lied.
Well, she is little, as many Belizeans with a lot of Mayan blood flowing through their veins tend to be. (The great Mayan kings who ruled thousands of years ago were, even when decked out in all their warrior garb, little Davids rather than big Goliaths.)
Ludy, a single mom and spousal abuse victim, was struggling to support herself and her children Stephanie and Felix when I met her. She lived with her mother who was ravaged by diabetes. (Her mom died more than a year ago at age 55 from the dreadful disease.)
Did I mention that, on top of all this, Ludy had been going to night school faithfully for more than six years to obtain a high-school diploma?
So here was this young woman going to night classes, raising two kids and taking care of a mom who required an ever-increasing amount of attention and care.
She also had a baby girl on the way because of a spouse who had come around after being absent for five years or so.
My American friend and I (he has since moved back to the States) admired Ludy for her tenacity and toughness. My admiration was full-blown the night she received her high school diploma in June 2013.
I liked her and her well-behaved kids Steph and Felix so much that I offered to support her third child.
Talk about an act of faith — I was so nervous after making the offer that I thought to myself, “What the hell have you just gotten yourself into now, Paul McKay?”
So, on July 29, I watched Paulita come into the world. She was delivered by a Muslim midwife from Nigeria who worked at the time at San Ignacio Community Hospital.
“You want to hold your baby, dad?” she asked me.
It was one of the more surreal moments of my 67 years, Belize me.
She turned out to be healthy and full of life and personality and I thank God every day that she’s in my life for all the joy she brings me and everyone she encounters.
I call her “Miss Belize,” the nickname that she’s come to be known by around the twin-river cities San Ignacio/Santa Elena where I’ve lived since July 15, 2012 — a full five years.
I moved to Belize on faith, believing with all my heart that God for some strange reason was leading me here.
Miss Belize is the main reason and of that I’m certain. It can be god-awful difficult sometimes raising an energetic 4 year old in a foreign, third-world culture that on many days will always be difficult for me to adapt to.
But the good days far and away outnumber the challenging days. In fact, every day is a joyous and wonderful day when Miss Belize runs up to me with her arms wide open and says, “Daddy!”
Which in fact is an every day occurrence.
Thank you, Lord, thank you.
I don’t have words for how much I love this!