I have a little girl’s name written on my hand.
I have a little girl’s name written on my hand but I’ve never met her. Her name is Eva Love.
There’s a painting in Nana’s room that says “Family Rules: Be kind, Use manners, Always listen, Love big.”
I came across it through someone I followed on Instagram, which eventually led me to Lindsay Letters.
I purchased the painting, despite my editor having a slight complex at the price, and immediately hung it in Nana’s bedroom. We say the family rules all the time.
Eva Love, pronounced Ava, belongs to Lindsey and in a freak accident several days ago, Eva fell and hit her head.
This caused a traumatic brain injury, which has led to a five day stay in the ICU.
She has fire red hair.
I’ve never met her.
I’ve never met her, but I have met an amazing sorority sister who suffered a similar brain injury and was wrapped in loved by our community. She made a complete recovery. She was the loan officer when we bought our new house.
So, as I continue to follow Eva’s story, I remember all of the prayers for her. I remember sitting with her little sister who told me she knew God worked a miracle.
I know Eva’s family is waiting for the same miracle. So I promised to pray.
I pulled Nana in my lap and showed her a picture of this little girl.
As I told her what happened, Nana’s eyebrows knit together in concern.
She took my phone from my hands. “I wanna see her, Momma.”
She stroked the phone.
“Nana, we need to pray for her.”
Nana put the phone in her lap, held my hand and her daddy’s, and with every bit of sincerity she began to pray.
“Lord, bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus name, Amen.”
It took every single thing I had in my soul not to burst into tears. Her prayer made no sense for the given situation and I know without a shadow of a doubt God knew that my little girl was praying for Eva Love. She meant every single word.
As I follow Eva’s story, so often I’ve seen people saying they’ve run out of things to say. What else do they pray?
It’s so hard sometimes as we fervently pray for something, especially healing for a child, to continue to speak to God.
Hearing the prayer of a two year old, as innocent as her dinner prayer was, makes me realize that sometimes what we say doesn’t really matter.
How grateful am I that God hears my heart when I just don’t have the words anymore.
And how often have I prayed and prayed and then the next day gone about my business? God heard me. God answers prayers.
But I promised to pray fervently.
If that was my child, would I stop praying?
Eva Love’s name is written on my hand now. It’s on Brett’s hand as well. We pray every morning before school and that Sharpie marker is going to be the reminder I need.
Someone’s baby needs prayers. Someone’s most favorite person.
So, whether you have the right words or not, I truly hope you’ll join me in praying for Eva’s healing. Whether it’s your dinner prayer or something a bit more eloquent, God hears you and knows your heart. Every prayer matters.
For more information visit https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/evalove