Caroline is a child of Africa, born and raised in Nairobi, Kenya. Her family was blessed. They weren’t rich or even what we in the US would call well-off, but they had a home, and they had food. Not an overabundance of food, not enough for any in the household to put on a pound of excess weight, but enough to give them an adequate diet of wholesome fare that kept them from the chronic hunger and severe malnutrition so many in Africa suffer. Enough that when Caroline was three, she led the procession of her siblings carrying an ear of corn or an egg over her head to lay at the altar in church as the family’s offering, and enough as the family prospered, to march into church with each of her brothers and sisters carrying an offering. She knew they were blessed since so many of the children in her community never knew the joy and privilege of contributing to the work of the Lord. In truth, we can’t say Caroline’s parents and their many children could not have all been plump, even fat, from overindulgence, for these godly people had such generous hearts that any excess food poured into the community to feed those who were hungry.
The desire to serve God and others in Jesus’ name flows in Caroline’s veins. The compulsion to share whatever she has, be it ever so little, is bred into her core. Early memories of her saintly grandmother, who would never eat without sharing with all who were present, testify to her godly heritage. If someone gave her grandmother a banana, a rare delicacy, she would slice it into as many pieces as there were people in the house. Caroline’s mother was so humble that she refused to tell people how many children she had, feeling it prideful to count the large family the Lord has blessed her with.
Caroline’s parents were grocers, and from them she acquired many God-honoring attributes. They were Christians, and they taught her about the Lord with their words, by taking her to church, and with their Christlike lives. They lived out the humility, generosity, and kindness that worked their way deep into Caroline’s soul and have continued to blossom and bear fruit so many years later. No one knew but his children and wife how many times her father discreetly gave food to those in need. No one else saw the frequent times he tore up the outstanding account of one who had fallen on hard times and had no way to pay the long accumulation of charges. Caroline learned to work hard watching her parents rise at 3 am to get the children off for the 10-mile walk to school and start preparing to open their shop by 6 am. She watched them work until late into the evening, 7 days a week, tirelessly providing for their family and earning enough to have something to share. She learned not to grow weary of doing good by watching her mother work in the shop until the Lord took her home at 106 years of age.
When she was 5, her father set Caroline up in business selling coconut oil outside his shop after school and on weekends. All the money went into a sealed bank, which her father opened once a year, and after taking out the tithe to the Lord, he put the remainder into stock for the grocery store. Caroline’s reward was the privilege of working hard, being faithful, developing integrity, and taking care of a business. She had no complaints since the joy of giving was her daily reward as she scooped the oil deep in the pot and poured it into her customers’ pots fast, giving them an overflowing portion, just as her father did with the grain and other goods in his shop.
Ever watchful to see the needs around her, at age 10, she made yarn from sisal plants and knitted and crocheted booties for babies she saw in church with bare feet and bags to carry food for people in need of them. By 14, she was taking the wool from old sweaters the missionaries gave away to make knickers and bras for young people at school who could not hide their need. When she grew into a young mother, she never stopped seeing the needs of others, always giving of the little she had, using her own hands and ingenuity to provide what it was within her power to give, delighting in bringing joy and relief to another.
Caroline came to the US with nothing. As people saw her need, they gave her their used things, so many things that she soon had an overflow. When she found someone who was visiting from Kenya, she asked him to carry a suitcase back home to the Monica House Orphanage, which takes in children who have lost their parents to Aids. From that day on, she collected whatever she could to send to Monica House, to the Nairobi intercessors who get up in the cold early mornings to go into the churches to pray for the country though they lacked warm clothing, to whomever had a need she could fill. She sent whatever anyone gave her or whatever she could buy from her earnings as a house cleaner. Her clients and friends gladly gave her their good used things, but they resisted giving her a frayed towel, a stained shirt, or a dented pot. But Caroline, having grown up with poverty all around her, knew how deep the need, so when someone would say, “No, I am throwing this away, it is not good enough to send,” Caroline would respond, “Fine, you just throw it away in my car, and I will throw it away in Africa.” And throw it away she did; she has thrown away tons of clothing, shoes, books, housewares, toys, linens, whatever she could lay her hands on, shipping these things at great expense, to throw them away onto the backs of naked toddlers, under the heads of sleeping children, onto the feet of barefoot teenagers, or into the bare kitchen are a young mother.
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