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This story was written by a doctor who worked in Africa.
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 continued by adding, "And while You are at it, would You please send a dolly for the little
girl, so she'll know that 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
would be for a package to arrive 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 near 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
verandah, 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 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 Sunday 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."
"Eph 6:18 Keep On Praying"
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