Today I walked the muddy streets of Nairobi, Kenya. I stumbled over the rocky path littered with filth and entered the home of a young mother, named Caroline.
She kept her small one-room-home tidy and greeted her guests with a warm smile, holding her one year old on her hip. She wiped the corner of her baby’s mouth with the edge of her dress as she explained how the Compassion Child Survival Program had made an enormous difference in her life.
She’s not so different from me, really. Sure, our worlds are like night and day, one American living in opulence, the other African, living in squalor. But there is a chord that binds our hearts together: we are both mothers.
(her daughter, Eunice)
Please visit (in)Courage to read the rest of her story….