There are a lot of good people in the world. I'm talking about the kind of people who are willing to sacrifice themselves at all costs in order to help the greater whole. People who open up their homes to accommodate others. People who simply leave their homes to rebuild the homes of others. People who are willing to forgo the familiar comforts and stretch their bounds into the unknown.

Every time I am blessed with the opportunity to travel to another country and live the life of another culture - I am reminded by how many of these kinds of people there actually are in the world!

For the last few days, I've been living in Haiti and working alongside an organization called GrassRoots United. GRU does incredible work. They were in Haiti immediately after the earthquake hit and have been working ever since to unify the work being done by countless international aid groups. Not only have they been a tremendous asset in coordinating this work - but they have also worked tirelessly to ensure that their operations are eventually Haitian run - the current plan being to hand off operations by the end of the year to locals.

In the meantime, New Leaf has been working to assist GRU with our resource and talent base back home on a variety of projects. During our time here this week, we are working entirely on their base to construct proper toilets. As the base is home to numerous volunteers and partner organizations - two composting toilets often is insufficient for the growing demand - so we've been spending our days digging poop holes. It's not a glamorous job, it's doubtful to become a news headline, but it's one more important piece in the complex puzzle of disaster relief.

What I am quickly coming to realize in my short time in Haiti is that despite the sound bites and headlines we receive around the world - no situation like this could be summed up in a few words or pictures. Journalists and media can only do so much. This blog can only do so much.

I won't have the time to visit many places or talk with lots of survivors - but what I have been able to do is talk with those who have had those encounters over the past few months. And in just 3 days, I have come to appreciate the vast magnitude of stories upon stories that have arose because of the earthquake.

Stories of rappers who write with stinging truth to paint the scene of the refugee tent camps.
Stories of men who sneak into the women's health clinics to steal a simple bar of soap.
Stories of international organizations who refuse to provide food to refugees to encourage them to move to more permanent shelters.
Stories of young men and women who dream of creating opportunities for their children to travel and improve the lives of others around the world.
Stories of a land that no longer smells like rotting flesh.
Stories of a country that longs for peace and stability.
Yet stories of families who are no longer whole.

As I walk the streets of Port-au-prince, I am left mesmerized by the amount of rubble left behind from the quake. Each concrete chunk that I step over, each piece of brick and mortar crumbling from the walls are a reminder of how many stories surround this place.

But as my mind seems to fixate itself upon the destruction all around me, I hear laughing bouncing off the rooftops and cascading down the ally ahead of me. With each laugh, a child skips from rooftop to rooftop, gleaming under the star-lit sky.

I believe in a God that creates beauty from ashes. But while I may think and write about it, these children are living proof of that beauty.