At my church in Woolwich, there is an elderly man named Ron who comes to camp now and then to do odd jobs. Last year, he came to chop down some dead tree limbs, but before he started, he visited the camp office. I had spoken at the church one week earlier, talking about my quake experience and some of the trauma that I was experiencing in its wake. So Ron wanted to be sure that someone warned "that Haiti nurse that branches are going to be fallin' and there might be some loud noise and some ground shakin'. I don't want her to be scared."
This year, Ron asked for a private audience with me and he played me a song on the trumpet. It's called "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go" and my favorite line reads, "But if by some still small voice, He calls to paths I do not know, I'll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in Thine, 'I'll go where you want me to go'."
It was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.