returning from haiti a second time, my heart is quiet. the ocean expanse closes and our plane is pulling closer to florida, closer to america, closer.
closer to my family, my loves, and farther from my passion and my heartache. farther from what feels like a purpose. a calling. abandoned girls calling my name. calling for love. calling for a mother, while my children at home are calling for their mommy to return. i close my eyes and above the drone of the plane engine i can hear the songs of the little voices at yaveh shamma orphanage.
i hold their angel faces in my hands and plead for them to see their strength and beauty. beg for them to see their lives as a chance at real growth and change. they look at me and see a mother and everything they long for. they see loving eyes and hands that comfort.
we both see the best parts of one another. we both hope dangerously. recklessly.
faith the size of a mustard seed moves a mountain. this is no mole hill. it feels like the change in haiti would be moving an entire mountain range.
instead of backing up at the sight of what seems to be insurmountable odds, let's pickup the first pebble and move it. we cannot change a population. we must first educate a child, who empowers a community, who inspires a region, that shifts a culture. and maybe, just maybe that pebble can start an avalanche.