2014 Walk for Water

I know, it has been MONTHS since my last blog.
This semester has been crazy to say the least.
But here I am, and I'm definitely going to try to do better this time :)

So this morning I had the privilege of participating in the Water Missions International annual Walk for Water. I definitely recommend participating if you ever have the chance.

(For anyone who may not know about the Walk for Water or Water Missions International, just take a quick look at this link-
http://www.watermissions.org/event-faqs)

When I first heard about it I was super excited for a chance to be a part of a community service event. It was a super easy thing to do to- go online and register, show up and pick up your t-shirt, carry on empty bucket for a mile and half, fill the bucket, and carry it a mile and a half back where it is poured into a filtration system(3 miles is the average distance women and children have to walk daily to collect water-dirty, unsanitary water- for themselves and their families). It was nothing that required a lot of time or fitness or anything. It was such a great and easy way to raise awareness and funds for a great cause.

It didn't hit me though until later today when I scrolling through twitter and I saw this picture-

Even looking at it now, it affects me in a way I can't really explain.
It made me think of  a mission trip I went on to Jamaica. While we were there, my team and I helping a 19 year old named Devon build a house for him and his mother. While we were working one day, Devon cut his hand on a shovel. It was a deep cut. We had a doctor in our group who was able to properly clean it and to bandage it, but said if we were in the US he'd have had to go to the hospital for stitches. Before she made it over to Devon with the first aid kit, he had gone over to the faucet to clean the blood and dirt out of his cut. The water that I watched pour out of the faucet and into his wound was very noticeably tinted brown. I realized then that this was his family's only source of water. This was their drinking water, the water they cooked with, and the water they cleaned their wounds with.
After my mom picked me up from the airport, she took me to Outback to celebrate my homecoming. I sat there and ordered a nice cold glass of water-fresh, filtered water. As soon as it would start to get low, it would get refilled with more cold, fresh, clear, clean water. Later, I went home and walked to my faucet and I turned it on to wash my hands in clean, clear water. For months, each time I drank a glass of water or went to wash my hands I thought about Devon and about his deep, bleeding cut being washed with brown, dirty water.
I don't say all of this or think of that story to make myself, or anyone, feel guilty for the things we have been blessed with. That is far from what I am saying. I hold that story near to my heart because it reminds me of how truly blessed I am.

So no, you should never feel guilty because of the blessings you've received. You should never think that your pain or discomfort means nothing because someone else out there has it worse. You should, however, be aware and thankful for the many blessings you do have. And whenever you get the chance, it honestly feels so great to be a part of giving back to the people like these little boys in the picture. They truly are some of the most amazing- and thankful- people you will ever meet.