"A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER"

"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. 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."

"Before they call, I will answer!" Isa 65:24"

 Helen Roseveare, a missionary doctor from England to Zaire Africa,

told this as it happened to her in Africa.