Helen Roseveare, a missionary from England to Zaire, Africa, told this story in a testimony on a Wednesday night at Thomas Road Baptist Church.
"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 it) 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 in which the baby would be wrapped. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. But in filling the bottle, it burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates.
"And it is our last hot water bottle!" she exclaimed.
Water bottles do not grow on trees, and in Central Africa 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 usual, I went to pray with
some of the orphans. In suggesting things to pray about, I told them about the tiny baby, the hot water bottle, and 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'll be dead, so please send it this afternoon."
While I gasped 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?"
Could I honestly say, "Amen"? Oh, yes, I
know God can do everything. But there are limits,
aren't there? The only way God could answer would
be by sending a parcel from home. In 4 years I had never received one. Anyway, if anyone did send a parcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!
But halfway through the afternoon, a car arrived at my front door with a large 10kg package. I felt tears
pricking my eyes. I sent for the children, and we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. We folded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly. Excitement was mounting.
From the top, I lifted out brightly coloured,
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 a box of mixed raisins... Then, as I put
my hand in again, I felt the... yes, a brand-new
rubber hot water bottle! I cried.
Ruth rushed forward, "If God has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!"
Rummaging to the bottom, she pulled out a small, beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone! She had never doubted. She looked up, "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 "that afternoon."
"Before they call, I will answer!" (Isa 65:24)
