When I can't sleep at night -- which lately has been all too often -- I toss and turn and fade in and out and all the while I think of Colombia. 

I think about our Colombian friends. I think about our American friends who have Colombian children. I think about Victor and Yolanda, Susan and Ricardo, Isabel, Juanita and all the other's who have touched my life in some small way.  I think about the women who birthed my children.  I wonder if they can sleep tonight. 

I think about the children of Luz Y Vida and I wonder how Sister Valeriana ever sleeps at night. I think about the sweet voice of Treisy and pray she will come home soon.  I think about the sad and broken eyes of the two girls with EB, a rare skin disease that makes it nearly impossible to be touched by another person.  I think of the laughter of Claudia, Camilo, Mauricio, Tatiana and Juan David. I think about the way Jorge responds to Lori.  I think of Johanna and how one day she will rule the world.

I think about the flowers and how they are always in bloom there.  I think of how the sky there is bluer than any other place I have ever known.  I think about the constant crowds of people, the food, the sounds, the energy.   I start to smell cilantro. 

I think about how most Americans will never know that there is so much more to Colombia than what they see on CNN.  I think about crop spraying.  I think about coffee farmers and banana growers and greenhouse owners.  I think about street children, refugees and poverty -- real poverty.  I think about the colors of the market on Sundays. 

I think about how this place, these people and children, have invaded my soul.  I wonder if I will ever be able to separate myself again even if I wanted to, which I do not.  I wonder why God sent me there.  I wonder why he keeps me awake at night thinking of a place I can't get to without a day-long commute and a wad of money that I never seem to have.  I wonder what will come of it all.  

Colombia has shaped me in ways I am yet to discover, like underwater currents constantly running below the surface,

 forming caves and caverns that will be there for eternity. 

When I can't sleep at night, I think about Colombia.