Home again?

I am home again. That is to say, I am back in Sisters, Oregon where we make our home. There is snow on the ground and Christmas music in the air. A friend wants to bake cookies tomorrow and my mom is addressing Christmas cards. Usually this is my favorite time of year. And yes, celebrating the birth of our Savior takes on new meaning this year. But, I admit, I am not buying into the usual festivities. We are opting out on the tree this year and will go with evergreen garlands instead. We are exchanging only a few gifts and are just hanging out together.
Where are my thoughts? In Haiti. With my Haitian (and otherwise) colleagues who are fighting the good fight against the deadly disease called cholera, putting up a solid defense against the conditions which make the Haitians so vulnerable to its ravaging effects. I recall situations and patients who have impacted my life forever.
My thoughts are with the volunteers waiting for their flight itineraries to be confirmed so they will have a turn to serve. I think of the staffing decisions and the potential hires who will help the staff at Samaritan's Purse get through this epidemic.
I wonder how the election turmoil will be settled. Will there be a successful recount? Will there be a peaceful resolution? 
So, how do I reconcile the ache of Haiti with the excess of our land of plenty? I cry out to God for the dear Haitians. I long for Haiti to know the compassion of the Lord. After all, the fact that we are working against all odds to spare people the miserable death of cholera's devastating dehydration and organ failure is because God has not forgotten her.

O Haiti, return to the LORD your God,
   for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
   and he relents from sending calamity. 

In that day the mountains will drip new wine,
   and the hills will flow with milk;
   all the ravines of Haiti will run with clean water.
A fountain will flow out of the LORD’s house
   and will water the valley of banana trees.   Joel 2:13 & 3:18, paraphrased