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an
incubator, and no special feeding facilities. Although we
lived on the equator, nights were often chilly with treacherous
drafts.
A student midwife went for the
box we had for such babies and for 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 spilt milk; so, in Central Africa it might be
considered no good crying over a burst water bottle. 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. 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 prayer with many 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 chilled. I also told them
about 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 consciousness
of our African children. “Please, God,” she prayed,
“send us a water bottle. It’ll be no good tomorrow,
God—the baby’ll be dead. So, please send it this
afternoon.” While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of
the prayer, she added by way of 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 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 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 that 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 began to look a little bored. Next, came
a box of mixed raisins and sultanas—that would make a
nice batch of buns for the weekend.
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. One of the
girls had put in a dolly for an African child-five months
earlier in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old
to bring it “that afternoon!”
.
* * *
“And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I
will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear”
(Isaiah 65:24 KJV)
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