On a Hill Far Away

My mind wandered a lot from my work yesterday, wondering how it was going on a hill far away. In my mind's eye that Haitian hillside, speckled with the faded colors of bedsheets and t-shirts, faded from a couple of months of night-time drenchings and mid-day scorchings is starting to turn tarp-blue. Not aqua. Not indigo. Tarp.

I kept my cell phone on me while seeing my patients all day yesterday, something I rarely do. I was hoping to hear from that hill, where Jesus is working today. Hoping, but not really expecting to hear. The hill is, after all, very far away.

The bluer the hill becomes, the more comfortable the people will be, the better they'll sleep, the healthier they might stay. They will never know, my friends, who gave twenty bucks to make their life more tolerable. They'll not know what you look like or what your life is like. They have no idea about blogs or Facebook or checkbooks. All they know is that they stayed dry from the rain last night and so life might just be better today.

I stopped by my church to pray for a few minutes last night after work. A friend of mine was also there, doing the same thing. When we shook hands a $20 check (memo: "Haiti tarps") found its way into my palm. "Thanks, Jim," I said. "That just made a really big difference for somebody."

My little 8-day fundraising campaign was supposed to have ended a week ago, but there has been an inertia effect: an unexpected overflow (AFTER the deletion of the "donate" button) has come in... to the tune of $1,120 which has brought us to over $12,000. I am hoping to hear today. If I do, I'll tell them to buy as much food and supplies as the extra $1,120 will buy. If I don't hear, I'll be disappointed but not really surprised because I know it's a remote place.

Seems Jesus does amazing things on far away hills.