It’s our first morning home from Haiti and ashley and I are laying in bed having a hard time getting up and adjusting back to life in the US. It’s 9:53a.m and we’ve been laying here for some hours already crying.

Visions of the last 10 days loom deep in our souls. 
I keep staring at the door. Like I don’t want to walk through it. I don’t want life to start again. I don’t want the morning to begin. I wish I could freeze time, rewind and then pause.

We woke up in a king sized bed with comforters, in our own bedroom, with painted walls, a TV, a computer, clean air, clean clothes... 

We keep thinking about the kids who changed our lives in the last 10 days and how they went to bed in the dark last night, 
with the same clothes they wore all 10 days. 
clothes soaked in urine, mud and dirt. moldy beds. 

No one to tuck them in at night or pick them up when they are scared or have a bad dream. Nope, just a head count. that’s all they get tonight and every night.

I imagine they’ve been up all morning. 
No breakfast. Only Mangos that fall from the trees sustain them as they wait for their one daily meal. a meal I would never touch. perhaps something I might feed my dog. 
maybe. 
and they are the lucky ones. One meal a day. God is good?

I feel two world collide. Two worlds so very far apart. 
One I never want to forget and the other I fear entering. 
The other is home. Home feels alien. awkward. Sinful?

I’m desperately trying to hold on to life away from home while being home b/c I’m afraid. 
afraid of moving on. 
afraid of ‘the morning after pill’ 
Emails. Cell Phone. X-box. basketball playoffs. Chipotle. House work. Facebook. Sunday morning service. the terminator movie coming out. stuff. more stuff. overload.

A few doses and I’ve moved on. I’ve adjusted and I no longer have to carry the consequences of yesterday.

That’s what I'm afraid of. That’s why we are still laying in bed. and crying. 
I don’t want ‘the morning after pill’. 
I don’t want to forget. 
I want to hurt in the morning from last night. 
I want to feel the consequences of yesterday months from now. 
I want to be an alien in my own home.

I don’t know how to do that, so for now I’m just going to lay in bed, turn my phone off, soak in as much of yesterday as I can and tell the stories to whoever cares to listen. 
I guess the rest is up to God.

[to the girl in haiti who ruined my life... for good. this is for you. I love you so much. I'm so mad and angry and frustrated. We miss u so much already and I can't stop crying for you]