I’ve been trying to write something for an hour or so. But nothing is really working, because my words aren’t big enough to convey what I want them to.
Yesterday when I walked to the bus stop, one of the parents, a man whose name I do not know, but with whom I’ve chatted here and there, walked up to me and started talking about Haiti and the terrible earthquake there. He has family—close family—there and he hasn’t been able to get in touch with them. Same thing today. And what this guy is going through, tens of thousands of others are also going through.
This and much worse.
I haven’t watched much coverage of the earthquake. But I know it’s bad. And I know it’s going to get worse. There are little kids there just like my Sam and my Jack and my Quinn who are scared and hungry and in pain. And there are parents who don’t have their children anymore. It’s heartbreaking.
There aren’t a lot of things I can do to help these children and these parents. I talked about it with Sam. I told him that we should try to help when terrible things happen to people. I told him we couldn’t go to Haiti to help. He suggested that Alex and I take turns traveling there. I don’t think he quite gets where Haiti is.
What I can do is donate a few dollars. I gave mine to Doctors Without Borders, but there are many good people and good organizations who are trying to do what I cannot. All I can do is my tiny, tiny part.