Sorry, your browser doesn't support Java(tm).

A LITTLE GIRLS 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)
 and 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;
 sleep between the baby and the door
to keep it free from drafts. 
Your job is to keep the baby warm."
 [Unable to display image]
   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 bay will be
 dead, so please send it this afternoon."
 [Unable to display image]
    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 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 thought he 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.  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.
 [Unable to display image]
   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.
 [Unable to display image]
 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?"
 [Unable to display image]
   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."
 
Author Unknown  

Suggest this site to a friend.