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Subject: Isaiah 65:24 This story was written by a doctor
who worked in
South 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).
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 African
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 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, "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
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 veranda, 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 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?"
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)
"Do not ask the Lord to guide your footsteps if you're
not willing to move your feet."
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