How will I go back?

I just finished reading my last entry. I can feel a hint of bitterness in my writing. Maybe you can’t see it but I can. I pray continually that I won’t become angry at the unfair circumstances of this world. I don’t want to be disgusted when I look at the surplus of wealth in my own country. America is my country. It will always be my home.

I keep wrestling with the idea of when I’ll return. How will I go back? I don’t think it will be as easy as I once assumed it would be. How can I return to Wal-Mart Super Centers and Wednesday Wing Nights at the golf course when I have looked in the eyes of starving babies? How can ever enjoy a meal at Red Lobster when I know my children will only ever eat rice and beans? How could I ever spend an afternoon shopping at the mall when so many women here can’t even afford a bra to cover themselves?

What will I do when I go back? Who could possibly understand what I’ve seen? My first trip to Haiti was so different. I was here for a week. I saw poverty. I witnessed sickness, dirty children, and unclean living conditions.  But, I was looking at the problem and not the person. Now, these people are my friends. I have a bond with some of them that I never felt with anyone in America. I laugh with them. I sing with them. I pray with them. And then…..I watch them go without. I see them struggling to find clothes and food and I feel helpless. If only I had more money. Why does everything have to come down to money?

I once asked God to give me compassion. I would sing songs that said “Break my heart for what breaks yours. “  I don’t know if the answer to those prayers has been a blessing or a curse. Our God loves so much. I can’t imagine the hurt he must feel when he watches such needless suffering.