Two levels of praying for someone

This is one photo of Anna that was featured on Facebook by a relative asking for prayer. 

Three years ago around this time, my daughter Anna got very sick. 

My husband was out of town, and she and I found ourselves in urgent care Friday night, the emergency room Saturday night, on the phone with the doctor Sunday night, and in the office to visit our doctor first thing on Monday morning. 

Anna was not improving. I could do nothing to keep her fever down. Unbeknownst to me, she had already had two wrong diagnoses. No one knew what was wrong. 

Fortunately, my medical caregiver is thorough. Jane Rice examined her, asked lots of questions, and probably prayed for insight. Then she went to consult her supervising physician. 

Dr. Bridget Hilliard entered the room with Jane and examined Anna as well. She informed Jane that she agreed with her, and Jane informed me of their conclusion. 

Kawasaki's Disease. (Read more about that here: http://pennstatehershey.adam.com/content.aspx?productId=117&pid=1&gid=000989). 

Jane scheduled Anna for an echo-cardiogram and told me to head to the Chambersburg Hospital that night if Anna's fever did not go down. She said she'd call them to let them know we would probably be arriving via the emergency room. 

The next 24 hours were a blur. They included lots of calls from my husband, arranging care for my pets and other children, Anna continuing to get sicker, several hours in another emergency room, and a midnight transfer to Hershey Medical Center by ambulance. 

Upon arriving at Hershey Medical Center in the very early hours of the morning, things picked up the pace, rather than slowing down. And they never seemed to slow down again. 

Anna looked awful. She was exhausted, feverish, her skin sometimes had a rash, but it was her mouth that was the worst. Kawasaki patients have symptoms that reflect in the lips and membranes of the mouth, but Anna's mouth was clearly dealing with some secondary issues as well. Everyone who saw her visibly reacted, and the only way she could receive nutritional input (aside from intravenously, which they began immediately) was through a straw. The medical professionals seemingly streamed through the room to see her. 

Hershey Medical Center is a wonderful place. Though its facilities for children were still in sore need of upgrading at the time we were experiencing our week-long stay, the medical staff is generally wonderful. Soon, Anna had an entire team working with her, partially because Hershey is a teaching hospital, but also because Kawasaki's is a somewhat mysterious, complicated disease. 

My husband arrived from his conference in North Carolina. My mother, step-father and mother-in-law arrived from Minnesota. Even with their help, I was constantly talking with doctors, nurses, and whoever else walked through our hospital room door. I was providing Anna with a steady supply of chocolate milk (the doctors insisted they wanted her to imbibe anything that would provide calories or any type of nutritional benefit--chocolate milk included), calming her when she had to be poked and prodded yet again, answering people's questions, trying to find something to serve as a meal. 

I am generally a praying woman, but late one night, when I was sleeping on a foldout chair in between blood pressure readings, I suddenly realized I had hardly prayed at all that day--maybe for a couple days. My first response was mortification: how could I possibly forget to pray when my precious daughter's very life could on the line?! 

But the next moment deeply affected me. 

I felt peace from God rush over me. I sensed an almost audible voice: "It's OK. It's OK. People are praying for you." And I don't mean that they were simply including us in their prayers; I mean they were praying on our behalf. 

I have teary eyes even now as I reflect back on that moment, that experience.

My problem hadn't been forgetfulness. My problem was that I was absolutely, 100% engaged in a crisis that took every moment of my time and every morsel of my emotional, spiritual, mental and physical strength. Fortunately, I am part of the Body of Christ, and people all over the world were praying for Anna and for Anna's family. 

I had not anticipated being that mom whose daughter's picture becomes the Facebook profile photo for people requesting their contacts to pray for this blond-haired, blue-eyed girl who is so sick. I never anticipated a church taking a love offering for us to cover our medical expenses. But that became us. That can become any of us--any moment, any day. 

But the only lesson here is not that life can change in a moment. More comes to mind for me than Psalm 90:12: "So teach us to number our days, That we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom." 

The most poignant lesson for me had to do with prayer. I will never again tune out when someone gives a long explanation about the health of a second cousin who lives in a state far away. I choose not to let my flesh judge someone as giving a "cop-out" request when they choose to share about their Aunt Peggy's hernia surgery rather than a matter closer to the heart. 

Sure, sometimes people do share the "easy" thing when they request prayer for someone they've heard of who is sick, rather than confessing that they need prayer for their own dark thing they face. But that person who is sick--herniated Aunt Peggy or whomever--does need prayer--maybe much more than we can even imagine. 

And, as part of the Body of Christ, I will pray for Peggy (or whomever) in two ways: I will include her in my prayers, and I will pray on her behalf.