About 30 years ago, I was babysitting for an infant girl with Down Syndrome who was often sickly. Though it was only a short watch, I didn’t leave her side as I monitored her chest rise and fall with wispy, raspy breaths. I cried…my imagination ran amuck…I didn’t want her dying on my watch: she didn’t, but it wasn’t because of my tears.

As an infant, Autumn was plagued with health problems and often seemed on the verge of death (thus my tears)…her mother’s plan: prayer.  Her mother was determined to have prayer warriors on their knees for her daughter’s life.  She enlisted everyone she could to pray for Autumn.  She worked tirelessly to make prayer rugs from carpet samples for the children of the women in her Bible study group.  These rugs had the initial of the young warriors’ first names, and we received the instruction: Pray for Autumn. These prayer rugs were by our beds for years.

Recently, I learned that Autumn’s mother was sickly, and I immediately thought of my prayer rug–white background with the lime green ‘L’–and the tenacious mother who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the prayers of many made a difference.  I knew that once again it was vital that I pray for Autumn…and her family.