My so called "bad day"

I will admit that today felt like an awful day.  There was no real reason that it was awful, but it just felt like "one of those days."  Maybe all this rain is giving me cabin fever, maybe it is because I am unsure of my next move in life, maybe it is because I don't want to be in the U.S. but I'm not ready to go back to Haiti,  or maybe it is because I miss my kids.  Throw in the fact that my puppy was driving me nuts all day (he obviously was having cabin fever, too), and you have one miserable girl.

I spent the day working on my resume, planning for a church mission trip to Haiti, and spring cleaning.  All the while, I was chasing the dog around and trying to keep him out of trouble (a big task in itself).  Jake managed to unravel an entire ball of hemp string and drag it from my bedroom to the downstairs living room, chew up a pencil, eat a lollipop, jump over our baby gates into the living room (multiple times), eat the cat's food (multiple times), knock over the kitchen trash, knock over the bathroom trash, eat the bathroom trash, chew up tissue paper, chew on my favorite pair of high heels, chew apart a stuffed animal and scatter the contents around the house, and tear apart some mail.  When I was completely fed up, I locked him up in his crate so I could try to actually accomplish a few things.  Then, I had to listen to him whine and howl for the next hour until I couldn't take it any longer.

I realize that my day really does not sound bad, but like I said, to me it just felt like "one of those days."  By dinner time, I had a headache and decided to retreat to my bed.  After an entire day of mischief, Jake had finally exhausted himself and curled up under the covers with me.

I laid awake looking out my window and listening to the rain thinking about how safe and dry our house is.  Suddenly, I imagined all of the Haitian tent cities.  Thousands of tarp tents littering the entire city of Port-au-Prince and its outskirts, thousands of people living in conditions that most Americans cannot even fathom.  Our lawn mowers, vehicles, and garden tools have better shelter than most Haitian men, women, and children.  As I lay comfortable and dry in my bed, I thought about what it is like for Haitians when the rainstorms come.  Most of their homes have dirt floors that quickly turn to mud.  Their few personal belongings are drenched if not ruined, while here in the U.S, we get angry when our basement gets damp or our attic leaks.  We wouldn't want for anything to happen to all our extra junk that is hoarded away for safe keeping.  In America, we get frustrated when it rains because that means our children's sporting events are cancelled or we can't go for our afternoon jog.  In Haiti when it rains, children are often killed in mudslides, floods, or by debris that is blown around.  In the summer, we crank up the air conditioning and sip on iced tea while watching our big screen TV's.  Most Haitians are lucky to have clean/safe drinking water.  Their tarp tents provide little relief from the beating sun and hot tropical temperatures.  They most likely don't have proper bathrooms let alone electricity.

As God brought my beautifully broken country back to mind, I suddenly felt humbled.  After everything that I have seen and experienced in Haiti, how could I have actually thought that I had an "awful day"?  Lord, help me during my time in the United States.  Help me to remember my friends and neighbors in Haiti and other desperately broken countries.