It is now almost 8:30pm. I am up in my big office with the 15-foot ceiling. As I look out from my windows I can see that darkness has fallen on another day in Baghdad. The sun has just crept beyond the horizon, leaving a slight glimmer of light behind the skyline. The sun sets late here or so it seems, forgetting for a moment that back home this time of year it is also just about now getting dark.

The sounds of shots being fired should begin to be heard sporadically around the city, as the cover of darkness provides refuge for those few would be attackers. Most of the city is quiet, tired from a long day of struggling to make ends meet.

Part of the city forced to sleep early due to the lack of electricity. We continue to lay down electrical wiring only to have it stolen or damaged the next day by thieves and other ill wishers.

I am in one of the many presidential palaces, this one being Saddam's main governmental administrative one I believe. It is a massive complex of numerous huge buildings, all ornately done up in Saddam's presidential style; nothing but marble, high ceilings, chandeliers, handcrafted decorations, and nothing but the best of everything except taste.

We were fortunate enough to snag a large office for our two linguists and us. In our office are three very large windows from which we can see one of the four large sculptured Saddam's heads, which guard the four corners of this building. We have the mother of all desks here originally slated for a much larger -- more important office.

We even have two smaller crystal chandeliers in our 20 feet by 40 feet room. Fortunately we were able to procure 6 large high backed chairs perfect for dealing with the number of sources we have to talk to on a daily basis.

Around this building is what we call the Green Zone, which is a one mile radius safe zone that has been totally cleared out of any people, most of it was just government buildings anyway, this one being smack dab in the center.

In the mornings I run to the perimeter and back and then around the building to put in my 2 or 3 miles. It is a quiet running course interrupted only by the familiar sounds of army vehicles driving by, this morning a couple of tanks turned in front of me as they commandeered a corner.

Most of the buildings are empty, except for a few army units who have claimed part of their territory. Several of the buildings are uninhabitable, bombed into a pile of concrete and steel.

The streets are wide and lined with palm trees, with concrete arches, which serve as gates into the area.

I am sure in it's time this place was quite something to behold, a regular show piece. I am still amazed at the intricate design and the craftsmanship of the marble and wood, but yet overcome with the gaudiness and lack of taste.

I was speaking with a restaurant owner today who had come in to give us some information. I was asking him about his business given the nature of things right now. He answered by saying that business is really tough, especially without electricity, but any kind of business is better than life with Saddam. He invited us over to dine whenever we get a chance.

A mother and her daughter who had both found work in the new government, invited us to spend some time at their farm on the outskirts of Baghdad, to enjoy some real home cooking and a ride on their boat on the Tigris River.

Dad after day, we continue to meet with people who for one reason or another want to come in to meet with us, to share information they have regarding things going on out in the city. Many of the people are confused about what to expect from us, hoping in many cases that their information will be worth a job or some reward in return.

In many cases it is worth a reward if we successfully catch the people or the weapons being reported. We do try to accommodate them but really lack the funds to do much of anything significant.

We do get our share of totally bogus reports from people attempting to milk the system or get something for nothing. Boy could I tell you some stories that would just blow your socks off. Some of the craziest things you have ever heard of, at times wondering if I have the word sucker is written in Arabic on my forehead.

At times the information is just not as valuable as the person thinks, not quite panning out with the compensation they were expecting. One gentleman today after assisting us was disappointed with our job offer we gave him feeling he was going to get something more to his liking.

I was disappointed with his attitude after I felt we had done all we could do. He gave no indication that he appreciated anything we were offering him, not even in a polite way of acknowledging our efforts.

At times I wonder if I will be able to remain caring, concerned, empathetic and compassionate as I continue to deal with my fair share of liars, ungrateful and needy people, takers, dependent individuals, and overall people who feel we owe them something.

I feel at times that I am in some kind of a parent child relationship trying to get them to step up to the plate, to be responsible, to take advantage of things, and to take some initiative.

But yet at all times remembering where these people have been and what kind of environment they have grown up in for the last 35 years. Oh what a toll Saddam's regime has taken on its people.

The real test is whether or not I will continue to do this with all my heart no matter what the people say or do. For the most part the people here are very appreciative of our efforts on their behalf to free them from the chains of bondage. I feel it and see it everywhere I go, kind simple people grateful for our presence.

Who am I to judge anyway, maybe I really don't know what they are thinking or feeling. All I really care about is that we are here making a difference. We, in our own little way, are here in the middle of a bad situation trying, in the only way we know how, to make things better.

The bottom line is that whether they are appreciative or not, it really doesn't matter, as long as the information is making this a safer place. We are making a difference. Things are getting better. We are saving lives with the information we are obtaining. That is really what this is all about, saving lives and making this a better place for all of us, where people can worship the way they want, where kids can get the education they want and enjoy the God given right of freedom.

This is also about changing the perspective of a nation of people about America and the rest of the world, from years of being brainwashed by Saddam's henchmen. Influencing a paradigm shift with every person we touch, every action we make, and every word we speak, for we are the catalyst for change.

One of our interpreters told us of a time just a few years ago when while walking along the side of the road one day, people were throwing things at him as they drove by because he held a guitar in his hand. He was told that he would go to hell for listening to western music and playing a western instrument.

Another one was asked once by his friend, in all seriousness, if there were aliens that lived in the world outside their country, having never ventured out beyond the borders of even their city.

Here is a story I was sent by someone reading my journal regarding the changing of perspectives them of us and us of them.

One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"

" It was great, Dad."

"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.

"Oh yeah," said the son.

"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.

The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.

We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.

Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.

We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs.

We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them."

The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."

Too many times, we forget what we have and concentrate on what we don't have. What is one's person's worthless object is another's prize possession? It is all based on one's perspective. Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for all the bounty we have instead of worrying about wanting more.

The other issue here is "making a difference" for the Iraqi people and for the people of this region of the world, regardless of what the media says, who's only interest seems to be in showing our failures. At least there are thousands of us here putting in long hours each and every day making a cumulative difference of great significance. History will prove my point.

Here is a poem my sister sent me that touched my heart.

The Dash

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of his friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning... to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth and spoke of the second with tears, but he said that what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time that she spent here alive on earth, and now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own; the cars, the house, the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard, are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left? You could be at "dash mid-range."

If we could just slow down enough to consider what's true and what's real, and always try to understand the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read with your life's actions to rehash...would you be pleased with the things they say about how you spent your dash?

Author, Linda Ellis

Good night.