This story was written by a Muslim doctor who worked in Africa.
One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the maternity 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. I knew we would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator, no electricity to run an incubator or 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 found a wool blanket to wrap the baby. Another went to stoke up the fire and fill a hot water bottle. She shortly came back in distress to tell me that in filling the last hot water bottle, it had busted. 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 afternoon I and a few orphans went to pray. I told them about the tiny baby and explained our problem about not having a hot water bottle. I also mentioned to them of the two-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.
During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, prayed with the usual blunt conciseness of our African children. “Please, Allah,” she prayed, “Send us a water bottle. It’ll be no good tomorrow, Allah, 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 You really love her?” As often with children’s prayers, I was put on the spot. Could I honestly say, “Ameen?”
The only way I could imagine Allah could answer her prayer would be for a package to arrive 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 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 cotton jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. There were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients followed by a box of mixed raisins and sultanas that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. I then 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 Allah to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.
The ten year old was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, If Allah 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 Allah really loves her?”
That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former classmate, whose leader had heard and obeyed Allah’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.”
Abu Hurayra reported that the Messenger of Allah, (pbuh), said, ”Allah, the Mighty and Exalted, said, ‘I treat my slave according to his expectations of Me and I am with My slave when he remembers Anyone who approaches Me by a hand-span, I approach him by an arm-span. Anyone who approaches Me by an arm-span, I approach him by two arm spans. If he comes to me walking, I come to him running.” [Hadith]
From Sairtagla@yahoo.com
