Late night ramblings of a broken heart. . .

Haiti. I feel like I'm the only one who is constantly thinking about this horrific event right now. (Though I know I'm not.) My heart is broken beyond words for the missionaries, the children, the elders, and impoverished people of that country. People desperately watching as others die in the rubble, on the streets, desperately searching for their loved ones, holding out hope. . . maybe. My heart breaks. I shed a tear, or two, or three. . . What I wouldn't give to be on the first plane ride down there. The social worker in me. . . helping set people up with services, connect with loved ones, re-establish resources. The nurse in me. . . bandaging wounds, preventing even more death, preserving life. The photographer in me. . . capturing the heroic moments, the moments of reconnection, and tragedy. The mom in me. . . scooping up the crying child in my arms and holding on to it ever so tightly. The Christian in me. . . loving and loving hard during times of heartache. My heart is burdened. So I pray. That's all I can do right now. Oh Lord, show your love and mercy on this nation. I tightly hug my son, my husband. I'm blessed. I pray. I weep.