A Little Girl's Prayer... (As told by Helen Roseveare, a doctor
missionary from England to Zaire, Africa)
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."
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." 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 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! 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 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!" Isaiah 65:24
*Helen Roseveare, a doctor missionary from England to Zaire, Africa,
told this as it happened to her in Africa.
