I sit on the roof and think. Lightning flashes to the West and to the South: there is a storm over Haiti.
I wish you were here, sitting by my side as the rain sprinkles down on our skin and the setentas cruise the streets below. You could ask me questions as we watch the lightning run across the Haitian sky.
I wonder what Haiti is like. I wonder if I could help there. I wonder if they could help me.
I pray: "Why am I here, Lord? What do You want me to do here? Learn Spanish, ¿nadamás? It has to be more than that. These people need more than another Spanish speaker.
But they don't need me at all. They need You.
I need You.