Meat.

Tonight something happened that I don't know if I will ever forget.

I cooked the two turkey carcasses down for soup and had a TON of bones and meat to pick through. Elinda came up and asked to help. And then Toto. And then Loudridge. Soon I just walked away after giving them instructions. They finished their job quickly and had a bowl of meat for the soup and a bowl of bones and grizzle. I told them to go feed the latter bowl to Chilo, the dog. All of a sudden Elinda's face looked kind of funny, and I could tell she wanted it for herself.

So I asked her she could have it if she wanted it. And she looked at me kind of embarrassed and said, "I think I do." She and about 4 other kids proceeded to pick through the bones and gnaw on the bones. These are well-cared-for, nourished children who have been having three meals a day for years and years now. And still-- the last of the last of the meat... the scraps of our scraps, they wanted.

It made me so ashamed of all I take for granted. It made me mad for OVEReating so often. It made me mad for throwing so much food away-- stuff that literally ROTS in my fridge before we can eat it.

This is my 7th? 8th? trip to Haiti in the past 3 years. I have become desensitized to much of the poverty and hunger. Beggars come up to the car as we're driving down the road and I hardly notice anymore. I see the kids right outside our gate with all the telltake signs of malnutrition-- bloated stomachs, orange hair... and it doesn't always sting like it used to. Yet there are still moments like tonight that take my breath away.

I pray they never stop.