Sometime on the flight to London:
I'm sitting here on the flight heading to a place across the world I've never been, to help people I've never met make a better life for themselves and their families. All the while I'm reflecting on the fact that I live in a city that has hundreds of dysfunctional, unhealthy, and broken people roaming its streets every night in need of better lives. I'm practically neighbors with souls I could be providing for, yet I fly thousands of miles and spend thousands of dollars to help the town of Lodwar, Kenya. It just strikes me as odd. I ponder this troublesome truth while watching The Soloist on our flight to Lodwar. It has the desired effect on its audience, as I'm crying and wishing I wasn't so complacent at home. It stirs questions that I should ask myself everyday:
What relationships am I building with people outside of my comfort zone?
What am I doing to create a chance of growth in another human being? In myself?
Will this trip ignite a flame inside of my safe existence that forces me to change the way I cohabit with the people who surround my everyday life?
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