N: "Do we have anybody lined up for the next set of beds."

M: "No. And we are out of money."

We've said something like this after each set of beds we've delivered. Last night we delivered beds 50-55. Keeping track, for me, is like adding another stone on the marker. Justice needs to be screamed from the rooftops.

We can't make beds for every kid sleeping on the floor; but not every kid sleeping on the floor has come across our path. We can't afford to build beds for all of the needy, but we could afford to make beds for Tammy's kids.

What's next? I have no idea. We will deal with that when some needy kids come across our path again. If there is no money, we will earn some and give it. If too much time goes by and no needy kids come across our path, I will take it that we are not living the kind of lives where needy kids come across our path, and we will challenge each other to set a new course so that they do.

The Spirt moves like the wind, undetered. We will practice sensing its direction and will close our eyes, feel its coolness blow across our faces, and smile.