Drops in the Bucket

You know how dreams are. They are supposed to be subconscious representations of what's going on in your life. I believe it! I had a dream(nightmare is a better word)on Tuesday morning that made me sit up in bed in a panic. I dreamt I was taking care of a disabled child for a friend. Her name was Sarah. Some waiter came along and offered me a sandwich then left. Someone else showed up after mr. waiter, and asked how come I didn't have any food for this child. (Slap my forehead) what was I thinking? So I wandered off hunting for food for Sarah. Of course, when I got back she was gone. I briefly saw her down by the road where the traffic was roaring by, but she for some reason she couldn't understand my calls for her to get away from the road. Then she was near the pool and I rushed over there. I couldn't see her anywhere so I stepped into the water covered parking lot and immediately sank in the water. There was Sarah. Suspended in the water. Not moving. I knew I could still save her. If only I could get to her. I woke up about then, never having the chance to save her. I think that's what made me feel so bad.
All the things we did in Haiti, from helping at the feeding center, to VBS with kids, teaching, fixing, sharing were like a drop in an ocean. The need is so great and my ability to help is too small for such need.
And now we're home. Oh don't worry, I'll have more to tell you in general, but for now, as I come down from this experience I find myself feeling ashamed of my materialism and waste. This morning (Friday) I find myself crying at odd moments like when I woke up in my soft comfortable, air conditioned bed/room. Or when we were flying towards what I knew would be my warm cozy home. Crazy tears. I am overwhelmed with thankfulness. God has been so good. But in the middle of all that is a greater requirement for me..."and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God."

The Road in Haiti

The roads here are ... well, it's the dry season, and I guess they're in the best shape you could hope for. But let me tell you that's not much to brag about! Some have been graded recently according to the locals. Wow. I'd hate to see them in worse shape. The ruts are often 2 or 3 feet deep and the rocks are everywhere. Actually there's no rhyme or reason for most of the rut placement. But put a pickup on it and go with 12 to 14 people in the back of the truck and you're in for an exciting time of the kind that you don't necessarily want to have! I made the mistake of riding in the back of the truck when we came from the plane to the house. EEEK! I wanted in the worst way to take pictures, but alas, it was not to be. I could barely sit and hold on to the camera. IT gave new meaning to 'bone jarring'! I was never so glad to finally be somewhere! And sadly, I had to satisfy myself with pictures in my head and writing down the first impressions: cows and goats being led by young boys, women with loads on their heads, dirt over everything from the dusty road, houses surrounded by cactus fences, clothes drying on the fences, thatched huts, swept dirt...
I can only imagine what it must be like in the rainy season. The mud must be tremendous. They have one big hill near their house that is packed and firm and must be as bad as trying to run up a snowy icy hill when they have rain. Wow.