Price Match Your Goats Here

buy-a-goat

Let me tell you about my goat.

I bought a goat, but she isn’t a pet in the strictest sense of the word. I don’t actually keep it here in the apartment – I’m thinking she would be kinda messy to clean up after, and I already have a dachshund to clean up after.

Last year I bought a goat because I was so rich.

I lived in my family’s home (with my grandmother, mother and aunt) because I couldn’t afford to pay rent on an apartment of my own. My daughter and I slept in a borrow bed, under borrowed blankets and our heads rested on pillows that were lent to me.  I didn’t buy the latest fashions, rather I went to the warehouse sales that my favourite store had once a season and bought up end of season clothing. My mother often helped me buy clothes for Bronwen.  I didn’t own a car, but my mother let me drive hers around. With no credit card to my name, there was no high speed internet and I shared the cable television with my aunt.   I lived on less than $700 a fortnight and often I had to make do.

And I was rich.

Richer than the mother, who, despite working all day selling oranges cannot afford to send her children to school in Africa.

Richer than the Thai and Cambodian women who allow their husbands to sell girl children to sex traders, because girl children are worthless and a drain on the family budget.

Richer than the young girls caught up in the gang warfare in their local towns in Central America, who are tattooed with the gang emblems on their faces to ‘mark’ them as sexual property of the men (as young as seven years old) in the gang.

I, living a life of what would be considered poverty by many judging by Western standards was rich. And I decided that I should share my wealth, so I bought a goat from World Vision.

She cost me $40, which is a pretty good deal. Depending upon where you are in the world, it will cost you

   Australia $39 ,  Canada $100  ,  USA $75  or UK £18 

 I made a small sacrifice in not buying  a shirt that I would have liked to have owned, but, having concluded that I owned a great deal of clean shirts already, going without another one was a really easy sacrifice.

I don’t know where in the world my goat is right now. I think that she is probably old enough to have had some kids of her own, so I know she is providing milk for the family that are caring for her. I don’t know what they named her, but I call her Courtney the Goat  in my prayers. I pray for her all the time. I pray that the family (and the goat) is in good health, that they can send their children to school; that there is a brighter future for the family that look after her.

What would you have to sacrifice for one month to buy a goat?

How quickly could you get the money together if you gave up your morning cup of coffee from fancy chains like Starbucks or Second Cup? How much faster if you gave up your coffee and donut from Tim Horton’s?

Would you be willing to go without a couple of new books, DVD’s,  CD’s or a computer game to buy a goat?

What about giving up some take away meals – share the fun of small sacrifices with the children in your life and make it part of their learning?

What would you be willing to make a small sacrifice of to gain a better life for someone else?

Are you willing to take on this challenge? I’ve done the price comparisons for you already, and if I might be so very Kinda Sassy, might I say that  if you have a credit card, I highly recommend going to the Australian website and buying your goat – with the $AUS compared to the $CAN, $US or £UK buying a goat there is a real bargain!

Share with me your little sacrifices over the coming month and tell me what you name your goat.

Beep! Beep! To You Too

Ottawa Taxi

I have always had an inner kernel of sassy in me, just waiting to be set free from the confines of societal expectations, but it wasn’t until recently that I really started to allow my sassy to start expressing itself.

Not so with my daughter. My daughter is fabulously sassy already.

Stating the obvious, but here is proof.

Today Matthew took her downtown to get his health care card renewed at City Hall, and as you can imagine on a busy grey work day in Ottawa, people are grouchy, going about their business as if they are the only people on the planet who matter, who have their own agendas and want their own way – NOW.

As Matthew and Bronwen were crossing a street, a taxi driver got sick of waiting for a (4 years old  in 15 days!) child to walk across the street… so he blasted the horn at them to either try and scare Bronwen into walking faster or to make her Daddah pick her up and run the rest of the way.

But my little girl was having none of that! No, no, no.

She swung her head sharply around, gave the taxi driver a withering look that can only be described as saying “How Dare You!”  in the haughtiest aristocratic way and replied… “Beep! Beep! To you too!” and then, without turning back even once, she kept on walking to the beat of her own drum.

I couldn’t stop laughing with delight as Matthew relayed the story to me over the phone. Bronwen  is the living example of Kinda Sassy; she really  is sass on legs!