This is a
really inspiring story a friend shared with me and it made an interesting
reading. Most times we pray and don’t really believe that God will answer our
prayer. I hope you get blessed as you read.
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 that 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, and that 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
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, “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
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 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.
