In Haiti, she shepherds the reporters, helps with the manual labor and bargains on the streets for Haitian art she'll carry back to Utah, where it will be sold at a fund-raising auction, hopefully for much more than she paid.

Preparing for each trip to Haiti is a logistical nightmare, and this one is the worst yet, because of the clinic construction. Supplies have to be found and coordinated, travel plans made, volunteers lined up and trained. They have to have shots, provided by LDS Hospital, to cover everything from hepatitis A and B to typhoid and tetanus. Diseases you don't see in Utah are rampant in Haiti. Most will take malaria medicine, too.

Interpreters teach medical staffers basics like how to say water, "dlo." Lists are made, each person assigned to beg or borrow certain items. Jan Groves, Susan Gleason and Kurumada take care of the details. They are, Randle notes, the people who "grew the dream."

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Each volunteer has one moment that burns in memory.

Some people, perhaps even most, couldn't be helped. But there were others. And they can name them.

Randle lists the people with infections who received antibiotics that will heal them. He talks about a 19-month-old who, with exercises and a brace, will one day walk. Or the man Matthew Bracken fitted with an artificial leg. He'll be able to work, to provide for his family.

"Little by little, limb by limb, we are changing lives," he said. "Trip by trip, we make great strides."

Victoria Klein, Chad Lowe and Heather Read will remember the same woman. About 70, she had suffered a stroke and arrived at the clinic in a wheelchair, her left side flaccid. When she found she could use a walker, she was so excited she kissed everyone nearby. They gave her the walker.

It is a nice memory for Lowe, a counter to the girl who brought in her sister, 13, who had Down syndrome. "There was so much hope we could say, 'Here's a magic pill.' She asked if we could do something to make her learn, to make her normal. I wanted to say, 'You have a beautiful sister and this is how God sent her. Take her home and love her and do the best you can.' "

Evelyn Frederick, a physical therapist in the Granite School District, finds something almost biblical about how often she and Read reached into the supply closet and pulled out the right shoes, the right brace. They didn't have many with them, but somehow it was always a perfect fit.

"Somebody is watching over us," she says.

The Utahns express the sense of being part of something important. To a one they say they'd like to come back. They've fallen in love with the people.