Second morning, not waking up in Haiti.
I stayed busy yesterday, trying to mask the pain and longing I had for the Haitians and to fog over the images in my head of what I saw less than 24 hours prior. I felt like I was on "auto pilot"
My son was home from College, so I wanted to spend time with him and visit with him, but as we talked , I was struggling to stay engaged. I picked up the younger 2 boys from their sports, and I guess I expected them to somehow understand what I had been through. My youngest who is 13 said..."aren't you glad to be home?" I didn't have an answer that was completely truthful I guess. I was certainly happy to see my boys, hug them and thank God for them, but my heart was still in Haiti. I wanted to walk out to the kitchen and see my team. I wanted to fill my water bottle, and head out to the Tap Tap.
As I went to bed last night, I looked at my journal and reread my entries. I had blogged on Tuesday about the Home for the sick and dying Babies and how it had affected me. It was a profound day for me and one I thought I would never forget. With everything that went on throughout our week, I had nearly forgotten the faces of the women that wanted me to care for their babies. I don't want to forget. Ever. I cried myself to sleep, angered that my memories were already fading.
For those on my team that have taken trips before this one, I now understand what you meant when you said...."I had to go on another missions trip" Its really not an option, I will go again.