a flood of peace

As long as my Grandfather was alive, he prayer. For my sisters and me. By name. Specifically. Daily.

There were days in my life when that knowledge was just the thing I need it to make it through some difficulty. Whenever I went, whatever happened, I knew my Pawpaw was praying for me.
Today would have been his hundred and eleventh birthday. He died in 1988, just a few weeks short of his 86th birthday. I still grieve his loss for many reasons; not the least of which are his prayers. He was faithful to pray for his granddaughters.
The legacy he has left me is the imperative to pray for mine. By name, specifically, daily. Faithfully.
My hope is that she will be flooded by peace via the assurance that her name, her needs, are being taken to the Throne of Grace, daily, by someone who makes it a point to pray.