Tearful honesty-Rolling out of the pity party

Tomorrow marks four weeks in Haiti. SonSon asks me nearly everyday if I love Haiti yet. I smile and tell him the same answer- I am learning to love it.
The first thought that jumps to my head to describe my first month in Haiti is- unproductive. Slow. My first inclination is to feel as if I have done no good here and might as well be home. The gap between myself and those around me seems to grow daily into an insurmountable divide.
Then I take a deep breath.
I roll out of my bed of occasional pity and really look around me.
What have I done?
I think of the many times I have run the ambulance to a call and carried a sick, dying old woman to the closest hospital with compassion, speed and medicines... Here, on the way to the market, there was the old, bent over woman on the side of the road patting her stomach and pleading at me with her brown eyes. I only had 50 gourdes to give her and couldn't even ask her name.
In the states I taught music to children of all ages. I laughed and reveled with them in their accomplishments as I became a part of their journey of life... Here I gave a little boy a pair of shoes to protect him from the hot roads and slime on the streets. We were passing and I had an extra pair of Thaddaues'. I couldn't laugh with him or talk to him about his school. Just gave him a used pair of shoes.
I have been up for over 48 hours working endlessly on the ambulance rigs and in Dispatch. Assisting in life saving procedures and daring rescues over and over.  Here I gave one man some antibiotics for his infection. Just one man in four weeks.
I took my kids to parks, museums, on road trips to zoos and nature preserves. Here I keep them safe inside and come up with yet another game to pass the hours.
It IS different here. I have not been able to anything I grew accustomed to in the states. But perhaps that is a good thing. It is hard to be proud when everything is so foreign, even washing your clothes leaves you feeling inept and inadequate.
I remember all the bustling around and constant activities I was engaged in and miss so much back home. And then it's like God whispers to my heart, "Hey, Ellie. Be still. I love you and you are doing My will now. Not yours. You did wonderful with everything back in the States. But that was then and this is now. Grow where you are. Be happy with my blessings. Continue on with My work, one small step at a time and you will see it grow."
Deep breaths.
Smile.
I will be super busy again, no doubt. Running around all of Haiti doing very important things. But for now, my importance is here. In this little house. In what little, sporadic, guard protected interaction I can get with the people of Haiti. I am here. And this is my now.