Weeks three and four from Rachel

Apparently two weeks have gone by since I last wrote, if I'm counting my days correctly...there's this wonderful lack of concern here when it comes to knowing the day or time, and I love it.
Since I wrote last, we've spent more time hiking the trails, leaving water and finding people, but the importance of our work seems (in my head) like it increased. We've run into so many migrants these past days, as the weather grows hotter and the monsoon rains have not yet replenished the land (a few showers just started a day or two ago). So how do I convey what I'm thinking to you all? I'm going to try, forgive my falterings.
The weekend before the fourth of July was the hardest for me yet, most likely because we met so many people in just a few days, all with their own stories to break your heart. And honestly, as I'm trying to piece this together and put it out there for you to read, I'm not sure which day was which or which person we met first or if this woman was really a week ago and that man was actually two days prior. In the end though, it's not the timing that matters...
One group had two young girls, 11 and 15 yers old; the older girl had just turned 15 in the desert (keep in mind that 15 is such an important birthday for a girl from Mexico, and she passed it in the desert, sick). The father was accompanying the two girls, and they had paired up with two other men at one point or another. When we come across men or women, the emotional impact is always there as we consider what they are going through, but to see two young girls trying to cross the desert is an entirely different wave of emotion. No part of me can imagine being 11 or 15 and making the journey through this desert with little water or food, unable to understand completely why it's necessary to do so. A little rest and food improved their health and such, which is always a good way to leave things, but I'm still figuring out how much those girls impacted me (or perhaps I should say, the knowledge of those girls, as I hardly met them...)
Just yesterday we met a woman in the desert who absolutely floored me. The only reason we came across her is because we randomly decided to go off trail, and after three or four impulse decisions to take this turn or go up this hill, she responded to our calls about having food and water. She was sitting alone on a hillside under a mesquite tree, with a half-full jug of brown water from a cattle tank. Bri, Cyril and I walked up to her point and began to ask questions in the little Spanish that we had collectively. 23 years old, she had been alone for four days after her group left her (that's where the danger lies, when individuals get left behind), had not eaten for somewhere between four and six days, and have been in the desert for somewhere around 12 or 13 days. Her feet were blistered all across the toes and on the heels, she had bruises on her legs from falling so much because of her cramping legs, and fireants had bitten her lips in the middle of the night. And yet, she proved to be such a resilient woman, cracking jokes with us as we began to clean her blisters and give her food. Honestly, she may be one of the strongest women I have ever met (and keep in mind, I have grown up around a ridiculous amount of very strong women). She had such a spirit, and I am positive that such a soul can do nothing but succeed, no matter how difficult her journey is.
I have no concrete conclusion for this post, because that would mean I've come to some sort of resolution in my mind about all that I'm seeing and doing, and that's simply not the case.
Shalom.