I read this, and found the same truth happened to me many a times. Too good not to share with you. here goes... ;-)
This inspiring story came through an email from Arnold Raubenheimer, a retired mission doctor and gynaecologist living in South Africa. This story was told to Arnold by another mission doctor serving in 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 (there was no electricity to run an incubator), nor any 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 was our last hot water bottle!” she exclaimed.
There was no use crying over spilled milk, so is no use 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 easily die if it got chills. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time, one 10-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 that 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 the 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!
-to be continued…-
This inspiring story came through an email from Arnold Raubenheimer, a retired mission doctor and gynaecologist living in South Africa. This story was told to Arnold by another mission doctor serving in 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 (there was no electricity to run an incubator), nor any 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 was our last hot water bottle!” she exclaimed.
There was no use crying over spilled milk, so is no use 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 easily die if it got chills. I also told them about the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time, one 10-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 that 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 the 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!
-to be continued…-
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