My friend Kathryn has taken her two little children to Africa. To. Africa. Though I've only dreamed about such a journey, and in doing so, facing the biggest fear I have left remaining (now that I have already survived the one about cancer), she is actually walking, awake, into it. I tremble as I think about it, for the same reasons that I have always backed out when I've considered it myself. But when I think about big North American saviour-types heading into Africa for a little experience, a little philanthropy, a little placation against the great sad ordeal of Africa, I feel sick to my stomach. It feels like an example of self-satisfied rich men giving big donations to the synagogue. But Kathryn is like the wido with two mites. This is everything. This is the most generous gift she has.

I have prayed much. I have prayed while walking, while painting my kitchen, while lying in my bed... I've prayed the way I think Paul was describing when he said to pray without ceasing. I have taught my son to pray for them also. Yesterday he said, "Thank you God that Anna and Joseph can go to Africa. Please help them to help all the people there." Then he said to me, "Mom, sometimes children die, right?" and I realized how truly far away we are from it. It's not enough to feel badly about the plight of the poor, dirty, orphaned children in Africa... then go back to our magazines or internet. I remember falling on my knees once, sobbing, watching an African woman on tv trying to nurse her baby. I suddenly considered what it would be like to struggle to feed Josh and the pain of listening to him cry in hunger. I could not bear it.

It's not them and us. We are all us. We are all mothers and children.

We are all desperate; In North America, we just don't know how to name our desperation.

God, make light their path. Make their journey safe. Protect their bodies and their hearts even moreso.