Carol McBrady’s dreams came to a halt when she endured three miscarriages and a divorce. But God provided another way. She traveled to Zambia in 2002 and fell in love with the many street children abandoned by their parents. Two years later, McBrady sold her home in Crystal and moved to Zambia, where she still lives. She founded Action for Children Zambia, which provides housing, crisis intervention and a built-in family.
“When you think your world has ended, God has another plan,” said McBrady, 65, a member of St. Timothy in Maple Lake.
Q) What fostered your faith as a girl?
A) It’s the nuns. We were taught by Benedictine nuns at St. Timothy’s Catholic School (in Maple Lake): Sister Claire, Sister Nathaniel, Sister Alice. I took piano lessons at the convent with Sister Mary Conrad, and that woman was filled with unconditional love. You could practice and be horrible and she’d say, “It’s OK.” When I wanted to play “Bohemian Rhapsody” for my senior recital, she said, “That’s OK.” And I did!
Q) Did your parents demonstrate the Catholic call to serve the poor and marginalized?
A) Yes. My dad was the Santa Claus. He was a toymaker, and every Christmas we picked a family (that) wouldn’t have much. He’d do a lot of the putzing in the garage, and then most of the painting was done at the kitchen table with help from my mom. Dad would put it together and Mom would do the painting. Then he’d dress up as Santa Claus and we’d deliver a box of toys to a family on Christmas Eve before we went to Mass. He instilled that in us: If you can, you help.
Q) You were a social worker in alternative education. What inspired your first trip to Zambia?
A) I had read an article about AIDS running rampant through Africa and how babies were dying in the hospitals without their parents. I had commented to a friend, “When I retire, I’m going to go down and rock all those babies.” She looked at me and said, “Why wait till retirement? What’s keeping you?” I laughed and said, “I don’t know. I can’t afford it.” It was a Monday night. By Saturday a neighbor said, “We will pay for your trip.” God made it happen.
Q) And you acted quickly. You didn’t overthink it.
A) Oh no! You would never leave home if you thought about all the bad things that can happen in foreign countries. You’d talk yourself out of it.
Q) Before long, you decided to move there permanently. How did you discern that?
A) I’d worked in poverty, I’d been a social worker, I’d been to reservations, and I thought, “I’m good at this, I know what I’m doing.” Then I got to Zambia, and I thought: “I know nothing.” It was poverty beyond our imagination. There was no place to go to the bathroom. I used what little money I had left with me, and we made peanut-butter sandwiches.
When I came back to Minnesota, I’d left part of my heart with those kids. By that point, I’d learned: “Whatever God wants, he’s going to get, so I might as well be quiet and let him have his way.” I was reading Scripture, and God just totally stripped me bare. I knew I had to go.
I’d get these big consulting contracts and then leave the money for the kids to go to school, and I’d go back the next summer, and they weren’t in school.
Q) Was there a final nudge?
A) A boy had fallen off the train and gotten run over. I was there. The kids came running to me, and we found him lying there next to the railway. No one was helping him. I ran to the police post, thinking they’d call an ambulance, and they said, “It’s OK, we’ll pick him up later.” Which meant (that) after he dies, we’ll take his body. I’m like, “You can’t do that!” So, I got a taxi, and a lady standing next to me gave me her wraparound skirt to put all his body parts in, and we drove him to the hospital. He’d be screaming and screaming, and then I’d come in and he’d stop, and we’d pray and I’d sing silly little songs.
One of the doctors came to me and asked, “Do you know what he’s saying? He’s screaming, ‘Mum, come.’” That’s when it hit me: “I get it now. I’m a mom.” It was two o’clock in the morning, and I went out to the parking lot, and I got on my knees and I said, “OK, God I’m in. Whatever you set before me, I will take care of.” I have lived that promise for the last 20 years, and I will live it till the day I die. And that boy lived.
Q) It must’ve been scary to sell everything and move there.
A) Ignorance is a great asset when you’re doing this. You don’t really know what’s in store. My faith compelled me. I didn’t tell many people because they would’ve thought I was nuts.
Q) Before long, eight kids were living in your little apartment. Since then, you’ve built multiple homes where Zambian parent figures live with the kids.
A) We love being together. They call me Mama Carol. I can show the kids a mother’s love and bring them joy. We do a lot of singing and praying when we’re in the streets. The children make requests. It’s little songs they remember, that stick in their hearts and brains. “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory.”
They learn how to live in a community. We teach them how to behave in a family and in school, and then we send them to school. We have outreach programs and a farm where they can work. We’ve got monkeys running around and goats and pigs and a huge garden. We have 16 Zambians on our staff, most of whom have grown up with us, so they know the games we play with the kids. Once the kids figure out you mean what you say and you say what you mean, you gain their trust, and you can make a lot of change. Right now, we’ve got about 38 kids with us.
Q) Could you feel your heart stretching to love all those children?
A) I couldn’t feel the stretching. What I could feel was the awe of the blessing. I just stand in awe of the fact that I am the only mother these children will ever feel God’s love from. People will say, “This is a Mama Carol case. No one else is going to take this child.”
Q) Do you believe we are all capable of giving more love?
A) I always say, especially when I go into the streets: I’m one of the most loved people on the planet. Yeah, they’re not the kings and the queens and the presidents, but it’s an unlimited number of children, and as long as that number is unlimited, the love is unlimited.
I believe people keep themselves from this kind of love because of judgment. You have this mindset of what the people you love should be and you don’t let people in. When I’m on the streets, people will say, “What are you doing with that boy? He stinks!” And I say, “Well, give us a little soap.”
They’re afraid of that person who is different from them — and then they lose all this love that God and this person may have for them. It’s the judgment and that privileged lifestyle when you have enough that you’re not looking around for more.
Q) Do you write some of your stories down?
A) They all just pile up in my head. I just don’t have that kind of time, nor do I know if it’s my gift. I would love to have somebody to have some documentation at some point. If God wants that, it’ll happen. But I don’t think I’ll be the one doing it.
Q) What’s your go-to prayer?
A) The Hail Mary. I could pray the Hail Mary a hundred times a day sometimes. It was my mantra when I was in prison. I would kind of rock while I prayed it. In the early years, I was often arrested for feeding children in the street. There was corruption. The government or police wouldn’t let me if I didn’t pay them enough. They demanded 15 percent of all my donations. I’d say, “Show me the law where it says that?” That’s where it was good to have been a social worker. I can go right at them without raising my voice.
Q) What do you know for sure?
A) I know for sure that I love these kids, they love me, and God has got my back. Is that all? And joy is a way of life.
