[GCFL-discuss] Just a water bottle

[gcfl-discuss at gcfl.net]

This looks like something you all will like...

(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 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
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 

By His grace,
Samantha 


Dr. Scott Brooksby
2600 S. Rainbow #106
Las Vegas, NV 89146
702-367-4121
brooksby at bigfoot.com

-- 
A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

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