As I looked over some older photos, I came across this photo I took of Creighton on a vacation.  I love the movement of his arm, because it reminds me of the feeling of hurtling through the countryside, slipping from one state to the next.  Prior to settling into this room, we had wandered the streets of Chicago looking for a restaurant to be open (who knew all restaurants were closed on Memorial Day), and finally found a Chipotle.

In the crowded train station, our different approaches to a problem stood out.  We were looking for our waiting room and the people swirling around us were stressing me out.  I took off in one direction, wanting to find where we were going.  Creighton chooses to stay still in these moments, scanning the station for what he is looking for.  He is methodical and considerate, while I, the bull in the china shop, jump straight in to the mess to figure it out as I go.  I have a lot to learn from him.

I wish we could go back to this tiny closet, where we sipped hot coffee and listened to Night Vale episodes in the dark, where we laughed about the toilet and the awkwardness of staring at the other person while using it, where we cut through the backyards of all sorts of humans, wondering what it must be like to live in these tiny pieces of our country.

The past three years have hurtled past us, and I'm not sure I could recognize myself if I met her on the street.  We are shells of former selfs, filling up with new and old, good and bad, and trying to sort out what to do with it all.

into the deep

I've been trying to convince myself that the things that feel overwhelming to me are insignificant when placed in the broader context of those around us.

Recently I've been noticing this distance growing between people who live in different worlds.  Single people don't get what it's like to be married, married people without children don't get what it's like to be a parent, and each role keeps getting more difficult.  I'm sure it's true.  Parents don't understand what it's like for their single friends, and vice versa.  But why does it have to be divisive? Everyone experiences what they experience, and can it not be both/and?  I am married, without children, full-time nurse, part-time student, part-time instructor, and life is hard.  You are where you are, and it's hard.  Let's not try to quantify and qualify the struggle as if one is greater than another.

But I buy into it as much as anyone else does.  Lately I feel as if there's a weight wrapped around my chest.  I can't catch a breath, I wake up hurting and I lay down ashamed.  And if you asked me why, I would tell you some circumstances that would likely sound insignificant, so we know there's something deeper happening.  It's so "It's not about the nail...".

I've been reading Jonah this morning, and I finally found some language for what I physically feel.

For you cast me into the deep,

into the heart of the seas,

and the flood surrounded me;

all your waves and your billows

passed over me....

The waters closed in over me

to take my life

the deep surrounded me,

weeds were wrapped about my head.

Moving on down the line, Jonah prays

Those who pay regard to vain idols forsake their hope of steadfast love.

Those who cling to worthless idols turn away from God's love for them.

I need the success and the approval and the worship of my own character in order to thrive.  And it is destroying me.  So this morning, I'm asking for something different.

oh my God
hear my cry
from the depths
i call out to you
you give your mercy and light 
in the dark and the wilderness

my soul finds rest 
in God alone
my salvation comes from him
my soul finds rest
God is my home
i will not be shaken
i will not be shaken

you are my shield 
and my strength
trim my feet
for this battle
our god is 
mighty to save
i will wait 
i will wait for him

my soul finds rest 
in God alone
my salvation comes from him
my soul finds rest
God is my home
i will not be shaken
i will not be shaken

oh my strength, i sing praise to you
oh my strength, i sing praise to you
oh my strength, i sing praise to you
oh my strength, i sing praise to you
joy or pain, i sing praise to you
night or day, i sing praise to you

my soul finds rest 
in God alone
my salvation comes from him
my soul finds rest
God is my home
i will not be shaken
i will not be shaken
-sandra mccracken

Gene Parmesan: A Eugoogooly

On December 25, 2006, my parents sent me to the garage for something.  I probably thought it was a breakfast casserole since all our presents were opened.  When I opened the door, I found my dad's maroon 1994 Toyota Corolla.  Next to it was an identical maroon Toyota Corolla (except that it was an automatic and a 1997, with a gigantic red bow).  I screamed something like this, and we quickly coined this new automobile Gene Parmesan.

Gene had a sordid past.  He was plucked from a salvage yard after being totaled in an accident and rebuilt by what may have been a questionable character.  When these details are disclosed, often people question my parents judgement in placing their baby daughter behind the wheel.  I like to think of it as a humble beginning of sorts.  Gene was sort of like that cat that never dies (Chloe, may she live on in peace).  Everything about him was simple: crank windows, manual locks, and a tape deck with an AM/FM radio.  But behind the simplicity were gems.  The "coldest AC ever", according to my brother, 60,000 miles on the odometer, and great gas mileage.

There were quirks.  The trunk only opened by key.  In the winter, the locks often got stuck, and I had to warm them with my breath before my key would unlock the doors.  I bent the key slightly once and could never get a copy made.  The shifter light had burnt out, so in the dark you couldn't see if you were in drive or neutral or reverse.  Honestly I found that to be endearing because it made me count the clicks and feel the change in the transmission.  Truly the only complaint I could ever muster was there was no cruise control.

But that never stopped me from hitting the road.  Gene became a road warrior alongside me.  We drove from Kansas City to Seattle and eastern Washington and Nashville and Birmingham and Tulsa and countless trips back and forth from Denver and Colorado Springs.  We'd return home and drive the 435 loop.  Gene was my ride to church and clinicals and first dates and last dates and 160 miles of an engagement.  He took me on my 11 minute commute every morning and safely delivered me home.  I packed up my life and moved from Kansas City to Colorado Springs, leaving the car in the care of my parents while I jetted off to Haiti.  While in Haiti I longed for the freedom to hop in my own car and go where I wanted.  When I returned to Colorado Springs, I packed up my life and we were off to Kansas City to start again.

It wasn't always easy.  There was the time my tire blew in Salt Lake City and we were helped by the kind man in the Hooters sweatshirt.  Then there was the time my engine did that funky revving business, and I spent $1000 going from mechanic to mechanic until it was finally fixed.  Then there was the time the deer ran into the side of my car while I was crawling along at 10 MPH hoping not to hit him.  He broke the side mirror and left a dent in my passenger side, but I thought it only made Gene more distinguished.  There was the time someone on the Plaza backed into me and drove away, leaving my bumper dented on the side.

I always thought I would just replace the car when I paid off my debt.  I would move on to something more beautiful, something safer, and something with cruise control and an auxiliary cord.  But when it came time for that, five years of life with Gene was too much history to hand to someone else.  So I opted to drive the car until it gave out underneath me.

For my birthday last year, my husband surprised me with a brand new car stereo.  I came home from a trip to visit a friend and found a sleek black stereo with an auxiliary cord jack (cue all the praise hands).  It was a luxury, and I was in heaven.  Then a month later someone broke the window in my car and tried to pry the stereo out of the dash.  They failed and left it hanging by a wire, the rest of dash disheveled.  But, never to be put down, I drove Gene to the closest mechanic and they fixed the window, and Creighton and I put the stereo back in.  This time, the wiring was damaged, so anytime you attempted to adjust the volume, it cranked the volume louder and louder until your eardrums were about to burst.  In a way, it was fitting for Gene to have an imperfect stereo, because the rest of the car was imperfect.

There were tiny rust spots where the paint had chipped.  Every hubcap had fallen off.  There were mismatched side mirrors and a dead wasp that was wedged in between the rear windshield and the seat. There was Boomer hair that would never be vacuumed out and candle wax that melted into the floor mat and probably some sour skittles lost into the bowels.  The car was 18 years old and had 160,000 miles and I thought it could drive forever.

So when a friend was driving the car a few weeks ago and rear ended the car in front of her because someone cut her off, she cried because she knew how special my car was to me.  Of all my possessions, Gene was my favorite.

If his walls could talk, they would pour out tears and confessions and angry questions.  They would witness falling in love with my husband and whisper about cancer and divorce and earthquakes.  They would sing melodies to my harmonies.  Gene was my sanctuary and my home when I felt like I had none.  When I felt lost, I always came home on those four wheels.

Last week I cleaned out the last bits of my life from that car.  His hood was popped and front bumper crumpled.  Out came the road atlas and the red auxiliary cord and the Haitian money that I was saving as a reminder that I would go back to Haiti again.  I saved my $.99 ice scraper that I once dug Gene out of a snow bank with, but I left the dog hair and candy.  Then I walked out of the salvage yard and couldn't bear to look back.

Here's to 9 good years, Gene Parmesan.  I'm grateful for the safety you gave me in years that were rooted in crumbling foundations.  Go live on in some other Corolla and keep another girl standing on the other side.

Costco: A Lament | Blog: A Resurrection

Dear Costco,

When Creighton Barrel and I signed on for Costco, I was excited.  After living in Haiti where grocery shopping was an all-day affair of inflated prices, sore backs, and the best radio in the world, walking into a Costco there were angelic choruses.  The low prices!  The bulk toilet paper!  The samples of organic quinoa chips and skinny popcorn and meatballs!  And then, upon checkout, I gulped as I spent $100+ on granola, yogurt, coffee, toilet paper, and beer.  Those are the things I go to Costco for.  Ignore the hanging prepositional phrase above…

I USED to buy the CPK BBQ Chicken Pizzas.  Three pizzas for $5.99.  They were delicious and a staple "I'm tired of cooking" meal in the first months of being married.  Then, one day, they were gone. Every other week I would walk past the frozen pizzas, let down a little less each time as I realized things come and go in Costco.

But then the unimaginable happened.  Last week I marched my circle around the periphery.  Skipped the beer, granola, and toilet paper, grabbed my coffee, and turned to the yogurt.  There's the Mountain yogurt, there's the Fage Plain Greek Yogurt, the Gogurts, the Chobani small cups, and the…

THE FAGE VANILLA GREEK YOGURT WAS GONE.

It must have been a mistake.  Why would you get rid of something so lucrative?  Don't tell me you didn't get enough business out of it.  Your sales lady politely reminded me I have spent OVER $3,000 in the past 10 months in your store (and therefore should upgrade our membership to platinum president boss status).  You know what most of that is on?  The VANILLA greek yogurt.  Because it's the best.  It's not artificially vanilla-y.  It doesn't smell like C Diff like Chobani does.  It comes in a multi-serving container because those tiny individual cups aren't enough for my smoothies.  It's versatile in taste, so we can have it with granola or with strawberry, PB and oatmeal smoothies.  Or with spinach.  Or, or, or…

Sigh.

I just don't know why to keep our membership at this point.  I can't trust you anymore Costco.  I've almost converted my entire grocery list to Aldi, and if it weren't for granola and coffee, I wouldn't even need you.  Remember last fall when you changed the granola to apple cinnamon??  I do.  It threw our breakfast hours into a tailspin.  Just when we got used to it, you switched it back.  What gives?

Maybe I can make my own vanilla yogurt out of the Fage plain yogurt.  I'll look into it.  The result will decide whether we become full-blown Aldi converts or adapt to cautious Costco patrons.

Sincerely,
Sarah Barrel

---

In other news, it was time for a revisit to this little piece of the internet that I have severely neglected.  Since I last wrote, I got hitched, adopted the best dog in the world, started graduate school, started counseling and will probably never stop, and am soon approaching living in the same place for an entire year.  That's a first since I was 17, and I am intending on staying put for at least one more.  It feels good to live life at the Palms with Creighton and Boomer.

Wait+Hope

out of the depths i cry to you, O Lord!

O Lord, hear my voice!

let your ears be attentive

to the voice of my please for mercy!

if you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

O Lord, who could stand?

but with you there is forgiveness,

that you may be feared.

i wait for the Lord, my soul waits,

and in his word i hope;

my soul waits for the Lord

more than watchmen for the morning

more than watchmen for the morning.

O Israel, hope in the Lord!

for with the Lord there is steadfast love,

and with him is plentiful redemption.
-psalm 130

It isn't "God will do what you want when you want."

It isn't "You are in control."

It isn't "Hope in what you or anyone else can do."

It's "Wait for God and hope in His word."

Because His love does not change or go away or demand anything in exchange.

Because He is aboundingly generous in redeeming things broken.

Maybe not always how I want Him to.

But when we get to the end of this road, I know I will turn and say "Oh - I see it now."

A few nights ago I asked God why.

Same as the day Pierre was rushed to the hospital barely clinging to life.

Same as the day cholera claimed an unknown baby boy.

Same as the day I found Marie dying on the floor.

I don't ask why because I doubt him.

I ask why because I don't understand how He redeems things so awful.

And somedays we just won't understand the way we selfishly want to.

Tomorrow Zion will have a VP shunt placed to drain the fluid that is putting too much pressure on his brain.

Tomorrow we ask for your prayers. The support and encouragement to this point is dumbfounding.

Tomorrow we will be reminded, no matter the outcome, that these words in Colossians are true.

all things were created through him and for him.

and he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

for in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,

and through him to reconcile to himself all things,

whether on earth or in heaven,

making peace by the blood of his cross.

-colossians 1

Tomorrow, just like every day, God will be quieting us with His love. He will be drawing us near. He will be working all things together for the good of His child Zion. He loves us so lavishly; may we wait and hope in Him.

shelter

in the arms of the good Father

you can go to the deep water

where the questions we have left unspoken

come out in the open

we will find shelter here

so i lay down what i cannot hold in my hands

every sorrow and hope spinning out of control

and here i find sweet resolution comes in letting go

and we will find shelter here

when i look back i can see

and when i am old i'll remember these things

like a mountain of stone

and the longing that makes me believe

there is a tree by the blue river

where the shade stretches wide over

in this breaking we are hand and glove

we will find shelter here

- sandra mccracken

start again

I tend to spend too much money on music. Thank goodness for Noisetrade and Daytrotter, or I would surely be broke. How behind am I on The Head and The Heart? Just found their CD for $7 on iTunes. Totally worth it. If you haven't listened, go! If you have, humor me!

For those of you who know me a little better, I booked my first counseling session today. It's been a long time coming - I'm ready.

I have a job interview next week - it's encouraging to feel like I may actually have a shot at being employed. Seeing as how I took over my student loans for good, I need to be making money soon.

I met the newest addition to the Parsons/McElroy clan yesterday - Zion. I can't get over him. He has the most perfect mouth. In Charlie Brown O shape 80% of the time. Eeeeeee!

Today is the first day in my new old home. It's good to be back.

uncharted

When I moved to Kansas City in 2003, I was just turning 15. It took me 5 years to soften to the city. I remember walking down on the Plaza as a 15 year old and being told it was far too dangerous to be there after dark. [Insert comical chuckle here]

In the 7 years of Kansas City living, I moved back and forth from Colorado, Washington, and Haiti. Two graduations later, I was packing all things to go to Colorado for a final stop. I packed two bags and got on a plane to Haiti.

Now I'm back. I can't for the life of me figure out what just happened in 2010-2011. I've found myself shutting down, pulling back, and just wanting to give the majority of the world a figurative (or literal?) F you. Pretty, eh?

When I went to Kansas City last week I met up with friends from years ago. I found myself surrounded with hugs and love and smiles and laughs. At the end of every day I sat on a couch in a silent house with two sleeping brothers upstairs. In that silence I tried to numb myself with television and internet browsing to keep out the fear and the images that just won't go away.

I've had to decide what to do next. In some ways, it was paralyzing. But driving the streets of Kansas City helped. Hearing a familiar voice from a pulpit that had carried me through a year of confusion and exhaustion helped. Snuggles and giggles from aforementioned brothers helped.

As I drove through Colorado the next few days, I found my answer. Go. Get over the need to be independent and brave. Go back and be broken and silent and transparent. Go, heal, process, heal, break, heal.

Two days are all that separate me. 8 years after my first move, I'm doing it again. This time without the neurotic cat and puffy eyes. This time around, crossing that state line will be more sweet than bitter.

Stuff

Today I started going through all of my belongings and doing the annual life transition sort and discard. I found my chemistry test from college I will never throw away because I got 104%. I found my test scores from Adult Health which I did throw away because, really, who wants to remember that? I found my New Member Bunny clock from my first sorority formal. Sorry ZTA - it's on its way to Goodwill.

I'm always in trouble when I come across the toys. My parents wouldn't let me watch Toy Story II when they give away the toys and they feel abandoned because they knew I would take that as reality. I remember the Jungle Animals on Christmas morning. I remember waiting in line at Toys For The Fun Of It for Beanie Babies (cats only, of course). And the countless hours Becca and I spent with Littlest Pet Shop animals, each with specific names. My mom marveled at how we could know every name for every animal and not know more than 5 president names. I still don't see the problem.

I am amazed by how I can live out of two suitcases for a year and come back to so much stuff. I hope I can get rid of a lot of this, but my sentimentality seems to be getting in the way.

Something to work on. Acknowledgement is the first step in changing, right. Right?

More is More

Every time I fly out of Haiti, I look forward to two things in flight: free mini Toblerone and in-flight entertainment. Call me extravagant - I love free episodes of Park and Rec and The Office and 30 Rock and Community. Thursday was no different - I gobbled up my delicious Swiss chocolate and almonds and settled in.

What a rude awakening to have the entertainment peppered with this man and his commercials. As I flew out over people living on one meal a day if lucky, under tarps that are battered by rain and wind and sun and dust, eating chocolate and going back to the place I will always be able to return.

I've now seen the commercial on three flights and heard it between news programs. Welcome back to America, Sarah. Enjoy your stay. And have another chocolate.

Cheri

This morning I woke up to mountains outside my window. I woke up under quilts and down comforters, wrapped in warm clothes. I drank a cup of coffee and tried to wrap my mind around leaving mosquitos and warmth and waves and wake up calls of goats and roosters just a day ago. In the coming weeks I expect I will be decompressing and reflecting here. I am ready to withdraw for a while, but I need somewhere to write and wrestle with a lot of this.

I will be the first one to tell you that I have the best friends in the entire world. Growing up I shared best friends with my older sister Becca. The four of us would spend our days playing in dental offices, having hands and knees races, watching the same 3 movies, walking to Texaco for Nerds and Kwenchers, and eventually seeing each other maybe once or twice a year.

When I went to college I found myself surrounded, only by the goodness of God, by friends that lived life so transparently, so vulnerably, with me. They are the kind of friends that drop anything to see you. They are the kind of friends who share their beds and their food and their cars. They are generous and full of love and life.

When I went to Haiti, I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea the friends I would make in a year. I had no idea what God had in store for me.

But I knew that I would have a best friend in Diana. She is, and always will be, my cheri. She is a friend unlike any I have or will ever have. We bonded over failed cookies, broken Creole, Step Up, sharing music, and dancing. And when I moved to Haiti full time a year ago, I sat down with her two hours after landing and wept. After 9 months apart, it only took 2 hours to be ready to break over my circumstances in front of her.

We rarely spent time apart in the last year. It felt weird to go 12 hours without seeing her. And now I am going on 30 hours away from Diana. I'm not sure how to adjust.

Diana is impressive. In our year living together, I have seen how much people around her are drawn to her, especially in times of weariness or pain. Diana's home is for many people an escape. She is welcoming with her couches, good music, and cold water (or ji, if you're lucky). She is a continuous stream of positive energy. Her personality matches the bright colors she loves and uses in her house. She is sentimental, keeping small trinkets to remind her of particular moments. She knows how to live life, how to pull every single moment out and savor it. She will tell you she can't cook - she lies. Diana is like the sun, warm and inviting. She's a wise sage and a young spirit. She's someone you have to meet to really "get".

I am incredibly blessed by all of my friends. The Lord has so faithfully and intentionally put good people on my path. God knew what He was doing when He ordered my steps in Haiti and prepared a place for me there. He knew how desperately I would need a safe community, and He provided me with Diana. I know that if we were in the US or Canada, we would still be friends. But Haiti is now so tangled within our friendship, I can't untie the two. Leaving Haiti is as hard as leaving Diana, but that's because they go hand in hand.

I have left Haiti full time, and with that I have transitioned back to limited face time with Diana. And while that tempts me to tears and grief, I am going to try and instead thank the Lord for giving us our time together.

Cheri - I miss you a million already. Way more than the king bed. And only you know that's saying something.

tears and mercy

i know, o Lord, that Your rules are righteous,

and that in faithfulness you have afflicted me.

let your steadfast love comfort me

according to your promise to your servant.

let your mercy come to me, that i may live;

for your law is my delight.

- psalm 119:77

by thy birth, thy cross, and passion;

by thy tears of deep compassion,

by thy mighty intercession,

Lord and Savior, help us.

- Henry Alford

And the only way you can rejoice in sufferings

is if you find your hope in the sufferings of Jesus

over anything anybody can take away from you here.

- Kevin Cawley

other views of haiti

This weekend we took a trip to Jacmel, on the southern coast of Haiti. It was an entirely new set of sites.

ti moulliage beach, cayes-jacmel

bassin-bleu

bay of jacmel

ten months

Ten months ago I put myself on a plane to Haiti for the third time. I remember what I ate that morning in the Miami airport, what I was wearing, how I was feeling. And I was ready to be there. There were so many things I was ready to be away from.

I had an afternoon to get settled in and I started working the next day. Two days after that, my training time was over and we've been running ever since. [With some breaks in between!]

After the busyness of surgical weeks ended and we transitioned into solely outpatient clinic weeks again, we took some breaths. I got to know more about the clinic staff, about their families. They got to know me. We had our disagreements. Sometimes being the only consistent North American helping with patient care felt like nails on a chalk board.

Today I was told by our supply man and chaplain that our administrator needed to see me urgently. I hurried into his office and he looked at me like I was crazy. Then everyone burst out laughing and explained that it was April Fools.

I love these people. I love them all so much. They have embraced me in as a member of the clinic family.

So today when I sat with the administrator and told him I was leaving next month I had to hold back my tears. When I sit in the ER and speak in Creole with a patient explaining why we're making him stay all day, when I listen to pranks and jokes being thrown around by staff members, when Dr Jennifer calls me crazy and then asks me for Wheat Thins or gum, I'm reminded of just how much I love where I have worked these past ten months.

I don't know the where and when yet. But I am leaving in May sometime, and it is right. But it will be so very, very hard to do. But as I have explained time and time again in the last week, there's no getting rid of me in these parts.

I'll be back.

florida can't handle me

Once again. On my way to Haiti. This time I am spending the night in Ft. Lauderdale...in the airport. So worth the saved 60 dollars.

I've actually had a lot of fun. I have gotten multiple phone calls from friends around the time zones. I've tried to learn all the words to "Club Can't Handle Me". Each time I listen to it I am ready to break out a flash mob with the three other people in the airport. I watched an episode of Detroit something, something. I downloaded a free hour trial of Bejeweled 3 - but it stressed me out to try and beat the times.

Why do they abbreviate Fort to Ft.?

I have only met one creepy person. He has tended to follow me fairly closely, so I am choosing to stay awake and sit in an open area with other people. And keep my headphones in. And avoid eye contact. He has the same shoes as me which doesn't help for avoiding conversations as no one else seems to have them.

In other news, I was featured in Samaritan's Purse's annual send out to people about Operation Christmas Child. I mean, it was just a picture. But I was surprised as I didn't have SP scrubs on, and most all their media only shows people in their clothes. But I'll take it. I'm right next to Franklin Graham. Moving up in the world. I also haven't actually seen it, just a pixelated version on my phone courtesy of Christi Florida (shout out!).

The occupancy in the airport has tripled in ten minutes. Guess it's time to get up and moving. I'm thankful for this little corner of the airport with a plug and lots of open floor. I did wind up on the floor all night. No sleeps, just all out solo entertainment. Haiti here I come - leave the king bed open for me.

Faces of Bercy

This has been a busy week. Mission of Hope was recently donated a Clinic in a Can to run mobile clinics out of at our Bercy property - and Annie came to visit!!!

We must support 3 Cords!

Timid little conductor man!

Sweetest Lucien!

...and chunkiest little man!

I think I'll be advocating for Bercy clinics as often as possible!

snapshots

Some most recent moments captured that remind me why I love where I live.

a hard rain's gonna fall

the rumble is low and the heat is high

got a feeling that there's rain out in the oil black sky

feels her sweat in the ground and the burn in her nose

and the knowing in her gut something's still gonna grow

she ain't leaving til it does

It's the dry season here. The rain slowly tapers off, the humidity dies down. The weather gets more comfortable. Everything turns brown. The colors fade. The dust is worse.

We've gotten into a pattern. We don't put the buckets out all day in case the rain comes and we aren't home. We don't think about walking to dinner in the rain. We can go into the mountains and not worry about beating storms down or getting stuck as an alternative.

Things have ceased to grow. I have ceased to grow. My heart is dry and faded and worn.

Tonight, a change is beginning to come. I, in my stubborn nature, am resistant. I am complacent and don't want to move away from this rusty cage.

Two hard rains have fallen this week. And another one is brewing. Rain to wake me and shake me.

and after the storm,

i run and run as the rains come

and i look up.

on my knees and out of luck,

i look up.

...

you must know life to see decay.

one foot down

everybody had one good year,

everybody let their long hair down,

everybody had one bad dream,

everybody saw the bright sun shine.

everybody had one hard year,

everybody had a real good time,

everybody pulled one sock up,

everybody put one foot down.

- peter bradley adams

Thoughts From My Day

I never knew I could be SO cold in Haiti. Shivered the night and morning away - it was a good feeling.

"I want you" is not a good pick up line, random-man-in-the-airport. In fact, your lack of respect for me and women in general makes me so angry so please take my rude responses offensively and leave me alone.

This poor kid in the seat next to me is shivering on the plane and has no coat. Wish I had one to offer him.

Florida will always be tainted for me because my only experiences in the state revolve around customs.

The American Airlines lady in Fort Lauderdale renews my hope in kindness. I bet she has kids. [She rebooked my seat several times to get me the best seats possible on my new flights to Denver - and was genuinely interested in the people around her.]

Did they announce anything in Haiti?

I wish I was getting to Colorado a little earlier.

Remember that cardigan in the closet? I can't wait to wear it.

Obesity. I sort of forgot it existed.

These french fries taste so good.

I miss Haitian coffee.

Things are changing around me, and I can't seem to keep up. I wish things would slow down.

Will I be able to put in an IV in a month?

Who is going to staff the cholera clinics on Christmas day?

Dear Lord, please heal Pierre.

I hope it doesn't snow too much tonight so I can see a dentist tomorrow.

I love wearing jeans.

Will I remember Creole when I get back?

Birth certificate, check. Passport, nope. Letters, nope. Paperwork, nope. Money, nope. That means no medical visa - when will Alix get to the States?

I feel...weary.

I feel...guilty.

It's so fun to track people's planes!

Florida has a pretty orange sky for a sunset tonight.

Ache.