faith

There are no screens on the window at wings. The electricity is sporadic at best. There is no running water. The stove is fueled by turning on a gas tank and lighting a match. The commute from st. Joseph's in port-au-prince to wings costs 40 dollars round trip, unless you take the tap taps (local transportation) and I've yet to figure that out. I'll have to grocery shop and cook my own meals, the logistics of this are daunting at best. I don't know where I am geographically nor if its safe so I'm feeling a little stir crazy in the walls of the compound. Did I mention I got here at 4? I haven't been told any logistics of what I'm doing- don't know anyone's names. For once have less than any appetite, no one to talk to, can't take a walk, and don't feel like taking a frigid shower. It's 6:30 Pm, and for the first time I understand why people thought I was crazy for wanting to move to Haiti by myself. Even the peace corps places people in groups. the children and adult disabilities are severe. Their ward smells like bleach and urine. Most don't have underwear, it's extreme.

I'm torn between my extreme guilt that I feel sorry for myself, and the realization at how unbelievably fortunate I am.

I want to have a servants heart, but I hadn't foreseen spending money to be a volunteer.

I feel silly for thinking that spending a couple weeks at st. Joseph's would prepare me for this. I may as well have thought that living at the ritz Carlton was similar to being homeless.

I feel infinitely better suited to working with the kids school in Jacmel, or the boys at st. Joseph- but this is where they've asked me to live.

I hope the one night a week or so spent at st. Joes will help me to persevere, and I pray to get a healthier gage of whether I'm being a scared child, or whether this is not where I am meant to be.

I don't want to be here. But I do want to be in Haiti. I want to help. And I want to know and love the sweet boys at st. Joseph's.

I can't remember the last time I went I bed before 7, but for now I've got nothing left. Say a prayer. For me. And for everyone that I'm scared to live like.