"It Mattered."

Edo and I wake up at 4 to take him to the bus station. After I drop him off I soak in every last ounce of Haiti I can.

I open my window in this van and the warm breeze hits my hand. The dust and smell of smoke. Trash. Colors. Shops. Motorcycles. Cars. Lights. Beautiful faces. Beautiful teeth. Ragged clothes. Fancy clothes. Crazy driving. They zoom around a cop with his lights on and cut him off. I. Love. Haiti. Airport is here. No. I breathe in the last of Haiti and enter the air conditioning. The last sounds of horns honking, music blaring and people yelling are drowned out as the doors close behind me. Here goes my transition into the states.

I feel like a zombie. What am I doing here? Why am I here? Why didn't I just stay? Nothing in me wants to be in the states. Nothing in me wants to be here. I walk through the airport, tears streaming down my face. I don't know if people stare. I don't care. Only a month and I'll be back. My heart is broken for Jeremie. My heart is broken for my people.

There must be a mistake because my seat is in first class. This doesn't make any sense. I ask the stewardess if this is correct and she confirms it is. I sit in this plush seat. A small bottle of water waits on my armrest and the stewardess brings me juice. I want to cry and punch someone and be thankful all at the same time.

The woman sitting next to me looks miserable and clearly doesn't want to talk to anyone. I'll decide. She needs to let it out. I start to talk to her and she's still cold towards me so I take hold of her hand and she starts to cry. She tells me she is a foster parent and the day she left for Haiti two of her children got adopted. To deal with that heartbreak and how Haiti is right now would be too much for anyone. I hold her hand and pray and sing over her. She cries and cries and talks it out and soon I start to tease her. She goes from tears of sadness to tears of laughter and we laugh harder and harder. The women in front of us turns around and glares at us. We laugh even more. The stewardess says she is going to bring everyone breakfast.

Remember Mugsy? The blan on the bus from Jeremie?! He's right behind the first class seats sitting on this plane. I ask the stewardess if I can buy him breakfast. She says no, but I can buy him some chips. Wow. I'll decide what I can and can't do. She brings me a huge plate of food and when she turns around I promptly pass it back to Mugsy.

She tells me I can't send food "back there," like the people in first class are so far above the others. How embarrassing. I tell her I'll do what I want. He is so grateful. I'm really grateful for this plane ride. I'm grateful for Ginger next to me and Mugsy munching away in the back. I'm grateful for my wonderful friends and family back in Haiti and my friends who have been so encouraging back in the states. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you to my man for being so supportive. For always being encouraging and for knowing I need to do what I'm called to. I couldn't be more grateful for all that you are and all you have been to me. Thank you, all of you, for reading this blog everyday. Thank you for your support. Thank you for your donations and your prayers. Thank you for your encouragement.

My friend Demie sent me the starfish story for encouragement and I haven't been able to stop thinking of it. Thousands of starfish were washed ashore drying up as the tide went out. An old man was picking them up one by one and throwing them back into the ocean. A man came up to him and told him there were thousands and it didn't matter if he threw them back. The old man picked up another starfish and threw it into the ocean and said, "It mattered to that one." One by one. This is all we can do when it comes to helping someone. Every life matters. Every person. Every heartbeat. Be the old man because everything we do, every penny we give, matters. It matters to someone. It could change a life. I was blessed enough to watch lives changed and saved. Thanks to YOU. Do not forget. Throw your starfish. One by one. One. By. One.