"One night I
had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we
could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature baby and a crying
two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive,
as we had no
incubator. (We had no electricity to
run an incubator.) We also had no
special feeding facilities. Although we lived on the equator, nights were often
chilly with treacherous drafts.
One student midwife went for the box we had for such babies
and the cotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me
that in filling the bottle, it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical
climates. "And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.
As in the West, it is no good crying over spilled milk, so
in Central Africa it might be considered no good crying over burst water bottles.
They do not grow on trees, and there are no drugstores down forest pathways.
"All right," I said, "Put the baby as near
the fire as you safely can, and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it
free from drafts. "Your job is to
keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have
prayers with any of the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave the youngsters various suggestions of
things to pray about and told them about the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the
baby warm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. The baby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of the two-year-old sister, crying
because her mother had died. During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl,
Ruth, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children.
"Please, God," she prayed, "send us a water
bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, God,
as the baby will be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped
inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by way of a corollary,
"And while You are about it, would
You please send a dolly for the little girl
so she'll know You
really love her?"
As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could
I honestly say, "Amen?" I just did not believe that God could do
this. Oh, yes, I know that He can do
everything. The Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way
God could answer this particular prayer would be by sending me a parcel from
the homeland. I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I
had never, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me a parcel, who would put in a hot
water bottle? I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the
nurses' training school, a message was sent that there was a car at my front
door.
By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on
the veranda, was a large twenty-two
pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone,
so I sent for the orphanage children. Together we pulled off the string,
carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it
unduly. Excitement was mounting. Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused
on the large cardboard box.
From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted
jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them
out. Then there were the knitted
bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then
came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas-that would make a nice batch of buns
for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand
in again, I felt the.....could it really be?
I grasped it and
pulled it out-yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle! I cried. I had not
asked God to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.
Ruth was in the
front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, "If God has
sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"
Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the
small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted.
Looking up at me, she asked: "Can I go over with you,
Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Jesus
really loves her?"
That parcel had
been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former Sabbath school
class, whose leader had heard and obeyed God's prompting to send a hot water
bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an
African child five months before-in answer to the believing prayer of a
ten-year-old to bring it "that afternoon."
"Before they
call, I will answer!" Isaiah 65:24
Live as if Christ died yesterday,
arose this morning,
and is coming back tomorrow.