Water weight/ water wait.

In Canada, the snow is melting. I can hear water running off from yards and on roofs; in gutters I can see it sweeping street trash down its eddies, trapping chip bags and wrappers at the base of the drains. The grates are singing in synchronization, from one side of the street to the other. The taps and dings from the eaves trough drips chime in as I walk past houses; the whole soggy mess sounds like a symphony. All I can think about is how there are riches running right under my feet; that this water oozing down the streets is enough to keep villages of people alive, enough to grow acres in a time when even high-priced golf courses in Phoenix, Arizona is going dry. For the first time in my life, I couldn't shake the amazement of how rich we are that we can shovel water off our steps, and treat it as a nuisance. What a fantastic, incredible problem to have...

Fundraising is hectic; a hundred letters, a hundred ways to spin your need so it is appealing. My overseas coordinator tells me it rained, for the first overwhelming time, in Ghana, and I realize I'm going to be there for the middle of the downpour season--approximately the time of my fourth anniversary. This is getting really real, really fast, and slowly, I think I'm becoming up to it.

Frankly, I better be.