The Washing.
Cochabamba, Bolivia
Every week, over fifty street children would line up at the city plaza
for the ‘Kid Washing’…where we would bathe, clothe, and
feed them. The girls would then get pretty braids.
🙂
Cochabamba, Bolivia
Every week, over fifty street children would line up at the city plaza
for the ‘Kid Washing’…where we would bathe, clothe, and
feed them. The girls would then get pretty braids.
🙂
Dear Diary,
What do I write about when I have nothing to write about?
When my lips have nothing to say?
Do I paint for you portraits
of hollow chimes adrift
in dew whose songs
mesmerize with
each sway of
the wind’s
caress?
Do I liken you to a single rose
who has but endured a
winter’s wrath to
weave a quilt
of fragrant
hues?
Or do I reflect upon my life as it is,
to tell you how much I treasure
the privilege of being able to
help you, to care for
you, whenever
you are
ill?
Do I try to express how tremendous my
heart feels when I tell you that it is
going to be alright, or when we
know that it may not, that
we will conquer it
together?
Do I admit to you that whenever you
smile, my day is brightened,
my heart is warmed,
and that when you
weep, my soul
tears with
you?
And do I tell you how much I appreciate you-
your presence, your courage- as you
battle through your illnesses,
uncertainties, and fears-
while reminding you
that you are an
inspiration
to me?
So what do I do when my lips can find no words?
I suppose I let the heart speak.
•
…to a dear family in
Tema, Ghana.
Today, I had the feeling I needed a hug.
So, I hugged a mom…

…then I hugged a friend…

…why, I even hugged a taro plant…

…because sometimes, we all need a hug like that.
🙂