Chasing dreams...

One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labour 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). 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 that 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, 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, and that 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 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 hot water bottle today.  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, ' 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 22-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 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 and give this dolly to that
little girl, so she ' ll know that Jesus really loves her? '  Of course, I
replied!

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. '