It's 5:30 a.m. I've been up for the past hour and a half watching the coverage of the devastation in Haiti.
What can I do?
I sent money. I sent up prayers. There has to be something more.
The mother, the woman, the fellow human being in me wants to organize things. Watching the chaos in Port Au Prince is mind-boggling. We are so spoiled in the States. A fender-bender occurs here and an entire army of cars and trucks adorned with lights and sirens appears. A massive earthquake has destroyed significant parts of Haiti and the signs of organized infrastructure are almost non-existent.
It's not that I don't think officials are setting up plans. I know people from my own county dropped what they were doing to board planes and bring their skills to the island, but it seems like they need more.
Who is running triage? Who is taking care of the orphans? Who is bringing water? How will people eat?
I'm so grateful that it's not my job to provide answers to these questions, and yet I feel like I should be doing something.






I've loved watching you take down the bad guys. I loved that you weren't afraid to go after anyone. I had high hopes for you. 







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