It's always so hard to leave Haiti. The reality of coming home and processing what I saw always seems to hit me at unexpected times.
On the plane home from Miami to Minneapolis I overheard a woman behind me talking about her wonderful vacation. She saw homes that were built in the 1500's and were still standing, she saw the grave of Ponce de Leon.
I wanted to turn around and tell her about my wonderful "vacation". I saw homes that were destroyed in a devestating earthquake a year ago and nothing has been done with them.
I saw the mass grave of people who had died in the earth quake and their bodies were dumped all together to be buried. No one knows exatly how many, or who, all the people are that are buried there. The only markers are black crosses.
Please Lord give me compassion toward those who do not know about suffering and poverty, and compassion toward those that do know and choose to do nothing about it.