Sarah is a bank manager. Or used to be.  She’s beautiful, in her forties and has a serenity that quiets everything around her. She also laughs at my jokes. I like this.

She lives in a thatched-roof home on the side of a mountain in a refugee camp on the Thai/Burma border. No windows, no walls, no furniture. We have tea together on the floor, and I discover that like all strong things, bamboo gives a little when you put weight on it.

Sarah fled her home in Yangon, Myanmar, and now lives among the thousands of refugees camped between Thailand and Burma.  She is surrounded by barbed wire fences and waits for good people to bring rice so the family can eat. She can’t take a drive into town, go visit relatives, or even get a job. You and I call that prison.

Yet Sarah is peaceful and confident and wears  dignity like a casual shawl. She’s a leader among her people here: thousands of men, women and children withou a nation of thier own. She directs a school of  400 children, helps arrange the church services in the open air building in the camp and supervises programs for her community. She also translates for visitors like me.

Great women leaders are like Sarah,the refugee. You can put them in any soil and they will soon start sprouting branches, providing shade and shelter for everyone around them. They don’t whine over hardship or remind us that they hurt. They are too busy living out a high call(which hasn't changed) and developing a new set of dreams.

Strength and dignity and a tranquil spirit are the stuff mountains are made of. The elements howl and thrash, but the God-core cannot be moved. Blessed are those who keep thier root system strong.