This is a hard post for me to write. I’m sparking right now like a five-month old Christmas tree still lit. {READ: Fire Hazard}

A little boy in Uganda died last week of AIDS. What sucks is that’s nothing new. What sucks more is he was the brother of one of our scholarship girls at Just Like My Child Foundation (the non profit I work with) and the son of Florence – one of the women we care closely for.

His Name Was George…

Dena Lewerke, the Country Director on the ground in Uganda wrote a letter sharing her account of George’s passing and his mother’s turmoil. I’m sharing it here because… well for so many reasons. I sat here at my desk, tears streaming down my face, reading what I’m about to share with you. Little George didn’t have to die. His mother Florence shouldn’t be forced to fend for herself in extreme poverty without parents, the father of her children, or any hope of sustainable income. Most of all I’m upset because Florence’s circumstances are heart rending. And they’re happening to something like 80% of the women in developing nations like Uganda.

I’m not going to sit here and say that we have it so good here in the west and shouldn’t complain about our lives in the face of such tragedies. We’re all human and when I stub my toe I’m gonna cry about it. But this is serious. Poverty is real and it hurts and worst of all – it can be successfully eradicated – but few are doing what it takes (when it doesn’t take all that much).

A few months ago I had the pleasure and honor to meet Vivian Glyck, founder of a soulful and effective charity called Just Like My Child Foundation. It’s just one of the things that makes Vivian a stunning and wonderful woman. She is someone I have hoped to learn from, assist, and befriend.

This month I have started that journey, helping to raise funds for her charity by offering tickets to a mega-event Just Like My Child is hosting the weekend of August 15th.

It’s called Paid for Life. I invite you to check it out.