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 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 to 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 drug stores 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 chilled.

                                     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. 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."

~By Helen Roseveare~

This story originates from Helen Roseveare, a missionary from

Northern Ireland.  This story is true and that she included it in her

book "Living Faith."  She has written about the revival that took place

in the 1950's in what was then the Belgian Congo.  She has been

associated with WEC

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