From August 3, 2020 On Saturday morning, my plan was to leave the island a pick up a few extra supplies at the supermarket. Yet I felt I did not have the energy to even get dressed. I laid down on the bed and pulled the covers over me.
From August 2, 2020 In Florida, I’m able to type without Jingle Bells trying to slam his paw on the keyboard or bite my hand. Yet I miss the pest of a cat. Almost as much as I miss the kids and the staff at Santa Chiara.
From August 1, 2020 I was tired before leaving Haiti. Flight was trouble free. Customs was very fast. The driver was waiting for me. I was happy to be driven back to Ft. Pierce. While I really need the coming ten days to adequately rest and to deal with the relentless scabies, I left my heart in Haiti.
From July 31, 2020 For more than 20 years, I’ve been thinking about, writing about, love. Not the surface love we know and sometimes experience, a love too easily engaged and discarded. But the self-emptying love of Christ and the relatively few “saints” from all faiths who entered self-emptying love deeply and practiced it through extreme hardships and suffering.