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A Little Girl's Prayer
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"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 spilledmilk,
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
verandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. l
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 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."
-- Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England
to Zaire Africa, told this as it happened to her
in Africa.
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