I’ve been meaning to read Jen Lemen’s accounts of her time in Africa, but I just haven’t had the time. But today, I followed a link to just one story and it took my breath away.

If you haven’t read Goreth’s story yet, you really should. I always wondered what my life would have been like in another time, another place and I think I just caught a glimpse.

Let me explain. I know I’m a smart woman. I’m opinionated. I don’t like being told what to do. And I hate having arbitrary limits imposed on me because of my gender or age. If I didn’t live in an age, in a place that (sometimes begrudgingly) accepts strong, smart women who don’t like to be relegated to “their place” by either circumstance or birth, I could have been Goreth. Wanting so much more. Having the life slowly sucked out of you by just trying to survive. I was there once, only on a much smaller scale. I was desperate, alone, and tired of fighting (with no help from my spouse) for survival. I was inches away from living on the streets. I had to get out. And I did, with help.

Goreth struck a chord with me. I think she could get out with help, too. By ‘out’ I mean out of the desperation, the struggle just to survive hour by hour.

It could have been me. It could have been you. We’re really not that different when you get down the bones of it. We’re all women, mothers, daughters, sisters, wives.

As I wrestle with our own finances, our budget, getting ready to embark on a journey that will probably put us right back in the struggle to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths, I am overwhelmed with what I am not doing. Who I am not helping. And why I am not doing more.

I don’t know where to start, but I will find out. It’s so easy to live in my little cocoon. So easy to ignore the struggle that’s out there in the rest of the world. I have enough to deal with! But really, it’s nothing. Because even if I do fail in my endeavors, we have people to help us. But who will help the Goreth’s of this world?