People

The horrific images from Haiti since the devastating earthquake last week have affected people from around the globe. The cry for help went out, and people responded. Once again, some higher power (whether you believe in God, or destiny, or an unseen hand that guides the world's path), has made us stop, take note of what is right in front of us, and be thankful. It allows the goodness of humanity to push to the forefront of world news.

For me personally, the Haiti disaster has done more than make me grateful for the life that I have. It has once again sparked that desire in me to be on the front lines; not necessarily in Haiti, but anywhere that there is a need greater than here. My love of teaching, combined with my thirst for wanting to learn more and do more, have created a dream for me. I want to stand in a classroom, crowded with eager students who are happy just to have a pencil and a notebook. I don't want to be just their teacher; I want to be a student of their world. I want to learn how people in Africa, in Haiti, in India, are unique, but also see how they are very much the same as us. I know that this dream is on hold for the moment, but I also know that not having that dream would mean that it would never become reality.

How can I watch the news and not be affected by the mother clinging to her dead child, the homeless children wandering as though in a post-traumatic haze, the helplessness of a nation as basic needs are unreachable? Story after story of heartbreak permeate the world newscasts as we are overwhelmed with the loss of lives, and the destruction of families. This disaster has once again aligned the priorities in my life, in the order that they should be in. "My people" are at the top of my list, which is where they usually are, but sometimes that list needs to be highlighted, in bold capital letters. I heard a story last night on the Haiti telethon about one brave mother whose desperation to save her child went beyond the strength of human endurance. When the earthquake hit, her home collapsed, and although she was able to free herself from the debris, her child was buried. For 50 hours she listened to the cries and screams of her scared, hurt child. For 50 hours she dug with her bare hands as she listened to the cries weaken. She never gave up, even when help arrived, she continued. Her child was rescued; she had her person back in her life. Stories such as these make the people in my own life that much more loved and treasured by me. Even though there are days that my children seem to forget that I am actually the person in charge, there are also days that they hug me when they need a shoulder to cry on; there are days that we laugh at meal time until Lisa is choking milk out of her nose. Even though there are days that my parents seem to want to know every minuscule detail of my life until I want to go into hiding from them, there are also days that I am the one who needs the shoulder to cry on, and mom's is always available to me. Even though there are days that the distance between me and my "copain" seems like half a world away, the time that we are together is filled with laughing, teasing, the ordinary and mundane, mixed with that feeling of the perfect fit.

Hold your people close. Tell them that you love them. And remember, they are at the top of your priority list.