does the sea call itself salty?

The Sisters of Charity have a compound here in Cayes where they work with the very ill and deformed. They work with the poor all over the world and so have a presence in the District of Columbia and can be spotted attending various urban Masses from time to time. Never before, however, had I the joy of seeing them at work, in their element. Their compound in Cayes is bursting with children and adults who smile and wave despite hunchbacks, handicaps, diseases and the like. We spoke with one of the sisters there; she had a tranquil way about her.

Encounters with people of this sort always leave me curious: Who were they? What were they like before dedicating themselves to a life of service? Who are they? Do they understand the positive impact they have on people's lives? What do they think? And, maybe, what do they think of me, if anything at all?
This morning one of Pwoje Espwa's long-term volunteers left. In a couple weeks he will be installed in East Timur as a UN volunteer. He seemed a bit listless during his last couple of weeks here. The kids will miss him, his friends will miss him, his coworkers will miss him. Hopefully he goes with the understanding that his thoughtfulness and sensible intelligence made an enormously positive impact on everyone he encountered.

One never forgets encounters with people like the Sister of Charity or this volunteer (who might cringe at being in the same category as a nun but should know he belongs there, for though their roles are different they both give selflessly to those in great need). A friend here, who also belongs in this category, shrugged when I called him a "good man" and said, "I can't say that. You can say that. Does the sea call itself salty?"