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I have been in Liberia for a month already. It's amazing how quickly we can reconstruct our idea of normal and adapt to our circumstances.

A month ago, it was not normal for me to do one load of laundry a week. Or to take routine military showers (turn the water on, wet your body, turn it off, lather up, turn it on to rinse). Or to crave cheese sandwiches (I eat about 10 a week). I wasn't aware that peanut butter and honey on bread is a nice alternative to peanut butter on bread. I had never identified myself as an American (I'm from Bucks County). I never thought I would have to make a conscious effort to daily breath fresh air. I wasn't use to carrying an umbrella on all my journeys.

A month ago, I didn't realize how large a child's mal-nourished stomach can grow. I had never thought about what would be like to deliver a baby by yourself while member's of the rebel army surrounded your home. I had never seen urine pour though a body like a sieve. I never thought people wouldn't want to go to church because the building where the service was held once hosted the travesties of war. I didn't know how much I loved my country.

I didn't recognize how real the hand of God has been on my life. How real my faith is.
I am in Africa on a hospital ship. Something real has happened in my life or I am completely crazy.

I have seen that humanity is equal. We all share it. The same fibers are woven throughout time and eternity. Death is our destination. You can die from malaria at age 3 or die covered in grey hair, but we all arrive at the same place.


I am being daily convinced that the only way to enjoy the journey is to view it through the heart of it's Creator. And there lies a thousand small wonders and a life filled with contentment. The longing soul is satisfied.

Breath in the scenery. Love those you meet. Compliment the little things. Don't long for new beginnings. We have today.

Let's enjoy it.