This is a story written by a doctor who worked in Africa and passed on to me by a friend who has done missionary work in Africa herself. Joyce said this story so reminded her of how God would fill a need right when you needed it most...even hot water bottles. Joyce is a nurse who trained local women to more safely deliver babies.
Here's the story:
One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but in spite of all we could do, she died and left us with a tiny premature infant and a crying two-year-old daughter. We would have difficulty keeping the infant alive and 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.
A student midwife went for the box we used for such babies and the cotton wool that the baby would be wrapped in.
Another went to stoke the fire and to fill up a hot water bottle. She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling up the hot water bottle it had burst (rubber perishes easily in hot climates).
"And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed. As in the west where it is no good crying over spilt milk, so in Central Africa it is no good crying over burst water bottles.
They do not grow on trees and there are no drugstores down the forest path.
"Alright," I said. "Put the baby as near the fire as you safely can and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it from drafts. Your job is to keep the baby warm."
The following noon, as i did most days, I went to have prayer with any of the orphan children who wished to gather with me. I gave the youngsters suggestions about various things to pray about and I told them of the tiny baby.
I explained about the problem of keeping the baby warm enough and about the hot water bottle, and that the baby could so easily dies if it got chills. I also told them about the two-year-old sister crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time one ten-year-old, Ruth, prayed with the bold conciseness of our African children.
She prayed, "Please God, send us a hot water bottle today. It'll be no good tomorrow, God, as the baby will be dead. Send it this afternoon."
While I inwardly gasped at the audacity of the prayer, she added, "And while You are at it, would You please send a dolly for the little girl so she knows 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 it.
Oh yes, He can do anything, the Bible says so. But there are limits, aren't there? The only way God could answer this prayer was to send a parcel from the homeland. I had been in Africa for four years at that time and had never received a parcel from home.
Anyway, if someone did send me a parcel, why would they include a hot water bottle. I lived on the equator!
Halfway through the afternoon while I was teaching in the nurses training center, word was sent to me that there was a car by my front door. By the time I reached home, the car was gone, but there on the veranda was a huge 22 pound parcel. I felt tears pricking my eyes. I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphan 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. Thirty or forty pair of eyes were focused on the package. From the top I lifted out brightly colored knitted jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were 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 reached in again, I felt the...could it be?
I grasped it and pulled it out. A brand new 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 children. She rushed forward crying out, "If God send 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 eys shone. She had never doubted.
Looking up at me she asked, "Can I go over with you to give the little girl the dolly so that she will know that God really loves her?"
"Of course," I replied.
The parcel had been on its 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 very afternoon.
Shalom,
Jeanie R
