The following story is not my own but a testimony of a close friend and mentor!
I was born in a small town in Kenya, a few miles away from the capital city (Nairobi). I had a mom & dad, and had an older brother. We lived in a small house; it had two rooms: the first had a small kitchen with mine & my brother’s bed, the second had my parents room. We eventually had two more siblings, and two siblings had to share one single-size bed. I was born with a sickness and it stuck with me making it hard to breath. I grew up with medicine that helped me breath and growing up I would pray, “I hope I don’t die tonight.”
My mother became a Christian and we started going to a Pentecostal church, which created a second fear (the first being dying in my sleep) of hell. My mom began praying in the home. If we didn’t have food, we would sing hymns before bed as our dinner and she would pray “Thank you God for the food of our daily bread, the food you give us every day
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