Monday was my first "real" experience being a nurse in Africa. But, for me, our screening day had little to do with bloodwork, vital signs or diagnoses. Although all of the health care staff were involved in the screening day on some level, those of us with no experience at this point were on various teams serving the people as they waited in line to be assessed. My job (along with about 20 others) was to serve water. We arrived at 6:30 in the morning, and already the lot was filled with people waiting to be seen. I have no idea how long they had been there. Already it was hot. Coming from the blizzard of Southwestern Ontario, I like to believe that I find it hotter here than others. At least I hope for their sake that I do. We set about the task of filling large jugs with tap water from the stadium. We filled buckets with bleach water to clean plastic cups and then set up an assembly line to hand out cups of water to the masses of people. To me, it seemed ridiculous. Handing out room temperature tap water to hungry people with potentially life-threatening illnesses who had been walking for who knows how long. As fast as we worked, it felt slow and meaningless. It wasn't very long before I was sweaty and physically exhausted and soaked from carrying full jugs somewhat haphazardly. It was DEFINATELY my most attractive day thus far in life. For the amount of effort it took, I couldn't help but wish that we were doing something more significant. I wondered what the scene would have looked like from above. At the risk of generalizing and making vast stereotypes - a group of overprivilaged, overeducated, underexperienced young people running around making no more than a very minor dent in a very massive need. It made me feel very very small. But, the kind of small that gives you perspective about your importance. I realize that the very best and most that I can do is grossly insignificant. I have been receiving tons of emails lately from people at home telling me how proud they are of me. People seem to be impressed when you give up your life and friends and home to do something like this. It would be easy to settle into emotional state of security and contentment, knowing that I have made a big sacrifice and am doing a good thing. Congratulations Jenn. But then I see the need. And I see that, as important as it is to give my best and give all I have, it isn't enough. On my own, my best and my all will only provide slightly refreshing, moderately contaminated tap water to a very small percentage of people who really need surgery and clean water and homes and and medicine and love. What a humbling realization. I cannot wait to see what my all, combined with the skills and unselfish service from an amazing team of skilled humans, serving under God's provision and guidance will actually be able to accomplish. I am so glad that He has more to offer than water.