The Butterfly Effect

From the corner of my eye, I notice a baby rattle and a pile of small rubber toy animals that invoke in me a sense of helplessness; I don’t quite know how I’m supposed to feel. What do you do when you are in a room with homeless young girls that are current and expectant mothers as a result of abuse? Girls that are younger than you, that deserve so much more and should be able to act like the eleven-to-sixteen-year-olds that they are. With such heavy thoughts in the back of my mind, I welcome the girls and prepare to give my regular speech, thoughtfully written words that I had just hours before said to distant communities in rural Bolivia. I feel it gnawing at me and find that those same words don’t fit. I set my cue cards down and look the girls in the eyes. Looking back at me is a sea of eager eyes, some with a hint of hesitation but willingness to hear what I have to say. I explain how I came to Bolivia to teach girls how to make washable menstrual pads to stay in school. Throug