dirty

this morning i got up, pulled on some exercise clothes, went walking/jogging with my mama, did yard work, hung many loads of laundry, watched judah in the wading pool, pulled an old desk out of the shed, blasted it off with compressed air, sanded it, painted it and cleaned the kitchen once or twice. by about 5, i was dirty and tired. the weather today was up in the 90s and you could feel it.

do you know what i did?

i came into my air-conditioned house and i showered.

i simply turned on the faucet and showered.

and while i was in there i started thinking about my friends. friends in haiti. friends who have been "displaced."

i think "displaced" is kind of a funny word. they're not misplaced. we can find them. but they're surely not where they're supposed to be. they're not supposed to be in tents. on medians. outside.

in march when i visited haiti, two friends of mine, mireille and her mother (known as "mama" joassaint) described the living situation in port au prince like this:

"we're in the streets, you-you. we're all living out in the streets. where you throw your trash. we're not trash, you-you. we don't belong in the streets."

this evening, while showering, i thought about them. i thought about the fact that at the end of their days they are most likely much dirtier and much more tired than i ever am. and they don't have the option of going inside and turning on a faucet.

they never have.

when i stay in mama's courtyard, this is where i shower:

i take a small plastic tub of some kind, fill it with water from a basin and pour it over my head, all the while trying to avoid the three-inch long cockroaches climbing the walls, slipping into that gaping hole, and being seen over the metal "door" that comes up to about my shoulders.

and that's a typical haitian shower.

but even mama and mireille are lucky there. because they're merely sleeping under a tarp in their own courtyard. they're not in a tent city. and that cinder block stall you see pictured as where they've always showered.

others have it much worse.

because where do you shower here:

there is so much on my mind. the "re-building" of haiti. the friends still in tents. the fact that it's been six whole months. the people who are in the states longing to get back home. the people in haiti who want to be anywhere but. the people in haiti who are working day and night to minister to one another.

the bombings in uganda.

my friend who is going there on friday.

all i am saying is that we are beyond blessed. and i don't ever want to take it for granted. i don't want to get comfortable with the ability to shower. with the abundance of clean water. with electricity and food. because it's not a right. it's a blessing. and a great majority of this globe lives on less.

for a good article about haiti, check here.

please read this as it was meant. read it as encouragement to be grateful for what you have. not guilty. read it as a reminder that we are fortunate. read it and think about giving to others. time, talent and/or treasure. and maybe read it and then think about re-reading this.

(all photos via the miami herald except for the cinderblock shower, which i took.)