Measuring by Wednesdays

This is my third Wednesday in Haiti.
A place that is, I'm told, considered a fourth world country.
My second year working at Mission of Hope.
Today is not the first time that I've considered just what exactly I am here to do. I guess you might say reconsidered. Is that okay?
I've made lists of fives, tens and twenties of boxes to check off, mark with a little 'x'.
I've 'x'd' ones, threes and fives of those boxes on those lists.
I've spent numbers of dollars on things to hang in my room (a mirror, a flock of seagulls) and on food from the market, the museum, the (deli)mart.
I've entered more eight-digit numbers into my phone's memory - eight because there are too many out there to accommodate with just seven numbers, I suppose.
This very moment I can recall my social insurance number, my passport number, my phone number from growing up in Bramalea and my apartment number from Church Street in Toronto... 389--404B.
Sixty-one. That's how many precious ones live in the Village of Hope Orphanage. Sixty-one beds will soon be filled by their big and little selves. Sixty-one of them finishing this special day of the twenty-ninth of February. Special because this is a leap year but also because we have all gotten through another day.
We measured today with hours and minutes and light and dark.
Tomorrow, a new month (!), will be divided the same way.
Next Wednesday is a mystery. Will I be different? Will my Creole be better? Will the fruit of my time invested in others, in babies, in mothers, in brothers - will it be evident? Will this nail polish last or get chipped off fast? Will my faith change, be challenged, be the same? Will I learn a new way to love? Will I meet a new person to give love to? Will be able to receive love back better than this Wednesday?

Dear Author and Perfector,
Please give us what we need for tonight.
Including acceptance of unknown things.