When sorrow gets a face

One morning this week as another volunteer and i were walking down from the Toddler House after doing computer class with some of the older kids (that's one of my duties), a young teen started walking with us. He (i am using this in a gender neutral sense) spoke very good English. He told us a little about his life - how since the earthquake he hasn't seen his mother (he said that the building she was in collapsed); how he would like to go to school but cannot afford it; how he lives on his own....this is when it's the hardest for me. When sorrow gets a name and a face and i hear the stories of those who have been affected by the devastation....that's when it really breaks my heart. It's one thing to see a crumbled wall, or a street that appears (and feels) to be made up of a bunch of rocks and broken bricks that have simply been laid in the streets and packed down by traffic, but it's another to look into the eyes of those who have lost so much, to hear them speak of their lives, and to realize that there's too much pain for me to even hope to make much of a difference. But God hasn't called me to solve the world's problems or to put a bandaid on gaping wound; He has called me to love, and by the power He gives me, with the opportunities He provides, to make a difference in this section of the world, in my little piece of Haiti. One never really knows just how far-reaching their efforts may become, and that's not something we need to know. What we need to concern ourselves with is fulfilling our purpose and answering the call God puts on our lives. He takes care of the rest. And what a great place it is to be in, knowing that I am where i belong, in the hands of God!