Eleven years ago, I sat on a bed with my mom and little siblings, staring at a TV screen replaying the images of falling towers again and again and again. With my middle- school comprehension of the world, I was a total spectator: interested, but unaffected. Concerned, but in no way burdened.
Flash forward nine years. I was walking across a college campus on a beautifully clear Michigan morning, scrolling twitter feeds with updates about the earthquake in Haiti. This time I was interested and affected, frustrated with the girls around me who were more concerned with their outfits than their suffering counterparts in the Caribbean, and my heart bled all over the sidewalk as I figured out ways to break the news to my parents that I was going to get on a plane and fly down to the little island.
"Wait," a good friend wisely counseled, "what would you do when you got there? You have no skills or services to offer any of them- you'd just be one more mouth to feed."
Furious, I ignored her for the rest of the day, but couldn't get her warning out of my mind.
What would I do?
How could I help?
Because holding babies is nice... but not when they'd rather some food and a warm bed.
Those questions eventually pulled me out of college and into the world, and now I find myself studying nursing so that I do have skills to offer to the broken and hurting.
Now here I am this morning, burdened and frustrated, once again sitting on a warm couch in a home blessed to have been bypassed by Sandy, surrounded by closed roads and fallen trees, watching the news unfold with drama as the earth once again circles the sun. I can't volunteer because I haven't been train in disaster relief (and, post marathon, I'm still walking like a duck). I can't donate blood because I was in malarial countries within the last year. I can't even give money because my tuition is overdue.
What good am I?
All I can do is study for my upcoming exams, trusting that the Lord has a plan in mind and praying for all of those who have been severely affected by this storm.
One day, I hope to be on the front lines, but for this day, I have to be patient and faithful to the responsibilities here.
My dad likes to say that everyone wants to be successful but not everyone is willing to prepare for success. I've had years of gallivanting off wherever my bleeding heart led me; now it's time to do the hard work of patiently preparing for the serious stuff.
Because the world is waiting.
