Space

I love it here. And I'm getting tired. 

There are so many treasures around me, wrapped in human form. Much to explore. I'm a sucker for a good story. Prayer and the accompanying answer is just plain fun. There's plenty to do. 

But the intensity of it all is getting to me. There were around 50 to 60 people here for all of last week. The scale of the disaster is visually and emotionally gigantic, and that's just in one person's life. I'm not used to the activity level either. 

I don't think I've carried what I hear. I'd have turned into a puddle days ago. Yet I know I've got a backlog of tears that need to be spilled. There's just not enough space to hold the joy I come across. 

And I miss my Dad. He went Home two years ago today. 

Dad, your heart would have broken clean in two if you saw this disaster. But you'd have been here too. You'd have really liked the carpenter team. They're building a ramp and moving an awning today to help reopen a pharmacy. You'd have been all over that. 

In the middle of all this activity, what do I do with these tears? 

A bilingual carpenter showed up last night. Turns out he'd like to take my place as the interpreter for the carpenters today. I'll gratefully accept his offer. That'll give me more room to cry. 

There's already a lot of grief in the mix here. I can't afford to stuff mine. 

We have another volunteer beautician this week too. Maybe I can hang out with the ladies and praise new dos. Something a little lighter.

So far there's only about 30 volunteers today. When did I start considering that a low-key day?

Thank You Papa God for a gentle space. Hold me a while.