The Bed

My heart was filled with joy when I bought a bed for $60.
“You must hire our donkey for two dollars to carry the wood home.”
“Why can’t I hire these boys who are looking for money?”
“It’s against the law. Animals are beasts of burden, not boys.”
I hired a man with a wheel barrow for 75 cents. After marching a half of mile through the center of town, I reached home.
No tools to put the bed together.
I longed for my tool box, the one my Dad gave me with a hammer, saw, screw drivers and pliers. But that was wrongfully taken by the person in the last country I ministered. And I couldn’t cry over stolen property. It was gone, so go on.
I had watched every step the carpenters used to dismantle the bed for transport, but how could I assemble a bed without implements?
With God’s help and the aid of a rock, can opener and paring knife, I put it together. And was quite proud of myself. Then I remembered pride goes before a fall. So I quickly begged forgiveness for my pride, before the bed collapsed.
That night as I reclined on the bed, I praised God. It’s amazing how something so simple, and insignificant, in the vast scope of eternity could make me feel so happy, like I was valuable.
The funny part is that the bed is not even considered a “proper bed” by African models. For it’s an inexpensive, throw the old wood together and pound nails in it piece of furniture. It certainly doesn’t look like any bed by American standards.
Thanks for tuning in. Next week, I’ll share what it’s like treating some of my patients at the clinic in the city.
Have a great day and week.


About celestecharlene

I served as a medical missionary in West Africa for thirty years treating the sick and establishing health clinics in rural neglected areas.
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