It’s 7:00 AM as I sit to write this letter. I’ve taken a hot shower, shaved, and brewed a pot of coffee. It’s a normal morning with one exception: without the gift of water none of these things would be possible. To be honest, I don’t usually think about this kind of thing, and the water in my life doesn’t really feel like a gift. Clean water is my expectation, and without it at my ready disposal, I’m pretty sure I’d be a grumpy person. But as I speculate how I’d cope in different circumstances, I realize that normal mornings for folks in other places are very different than mine.
Last summer I took a team to Roatan, Honduras where we built bunk beds and ministered to children in a community called Sandy Bay. It is a poor community where a family of six typically shares a one-room home with a dirt floor, and children are suffering from preventable water-born diseases. With the help of a water expert who has intentionally transplanted from southern California to Sandy Bay, we hope to return a team to Honduras along with a new water purification system.
Details to come.