Gathered Thoughts of Many Friends
I didn't realize how sick I had become.
I'd walked to a nearby village with two Chinese women who invited me to tell the people about Jesus. On the way to the meeting, I stumbled and almost fell a couple of time.
I'd hoped a nap would restore my strength before the time to speak--unfortunately, it didn't. They couldn't wake me!
As I slept, I apparently spouted Bible verses and pieces of the Gospel as if speaking to a group of people. I didn't know I talked in my sleep! My body was hot with fever and my throat hurt. I felt like I was falling--falling--falling and nothing made any sense to me.
Only the very poor people still lived in that village. They couldn't afford a doctor, but several villagers knew about a mission not far away. They put me in a cow cart and took me to the mission. The kind missionary family sent a messenger to Siam to bring back a doctor.
Two days later the doctor came. He shook his head and said, "I don't think she'll survive. She has typhus and pneumonia. Her only hope is to go to the hospital in Siam. Do you know who she is?"
"No we don't. She came here with two other women from Fu-Feng and while she was here, she became ill."
The doctor thought for a moment. "If we had a cattle car, we could slide her and the bed onto it. At the train station we could load the whole cattle car onto the train. Please understand, she probably won't survive." He shook his head. "If there's a piece of hope, this is the only way to get her to the hospital alive."
Those dear, sweet villagers not only found the cattle car, moved me and my bed from the house to the car, and transferred me to the train, but also a few of them sat beside me the whole way to the hospital, holding my bed to keep it from falling off.
They didn't have to go, but they did.
The villagers tried to help me even though they didn't think I would survive the trip. Halfway to the Siam hospital, I suddenly sat up, sang a few hymns, told the story of the prodigal son in the dialect from Yang Cheng then fell back on the bed and slept. Imagine that! I probably scared anyone listening!
Not many passengers on the train could understand the Yang Cheng dialect, but they'd believed I was Chinese because of the way I spoke.
Since the hospital staff heard I was Chinese, I received special care. They fought each day to save my life. For one month, I laid in the hospital bed not able to speak and hanging close to death.
One day my dear friend, Mr. Lu, who had taken the first group of children from the inn to safety, found me. He spoke with the doctor. "I know this woman, she's from Yang Cheng. She helped many children escape the Japanese attack."
The doctor listened with interest then asked, "Who is she?"
Mr. Lu smiled. "I only know her Chinese name. She is Ai-weh-deh."
"She's not Chinese?"
Had the hospital staff known I was English, I would not have received their help. I could have been left in an alley to die, but God, in His caring way, helped me receive the medical care I needed.
Praise God for His blessings.
Come back next week to read more blessings from China