I’m a homebody who has never pushed myself out of my comfort zone; never done anything really exciting with my life. I’ve supported many endeavours financially, wishing friends, acquaintances, and various groups well as they embark on humanitarian efforts around the world, but I’ve never gone myself. I’ve helped raise donations, and I’ve cleaned and catalogued donated medical equipment, but I’ve never traveled with it. I’ve read email updates and blogs, cheering others on, then listened to stories of adventures upon their return home, but have never had stories of my own to tell. As a matter of fact, as I write this, an AMAZING medical team is in Ghana and they are making real and lasting differences in the lives of thousands who attend their clinics.
This evening my heart was touched by the words of one of our nurses who has gone to spend six weeks in Canada’s north. This is not the first nurse I know who has done a ‘tour of duty’ in the north, and she’s not the only one in my circle who is there right now. The difference is that she is keeping a public blog, relating some of her experiences, and she’s given me permission to share what she’s written so far.
Once upon a time, a workbench lived in my father’s woodworking shop. It was an ordinary bench, extraordinary only because of the projects built on its surface. I’ve lost count of the number of things Dad made, but his grandchildren will never forget building their own little projects with Grandpa’s guidance. At first they built small boats to sail on the river running behind Grandpa and Grandma’s property. Then they graduated to wooden mallets, and small baseball bats turned on the lathe. Always, there were small pieces of wood available to them — cutoffs from other projects — and a box of used nails they could help themselves to. 
