Columnist Sheila Graham had a compelling interview with Ruby Bridges Hall sometime back. Maybe that name doesn't strike a bell. It will for some of you if I describe what Ruby went through as a child.

Ruby looked like a typical first-grader. With a big bow in her hair and lunch box in hand, she climbed the steps of William Frantz Elementary School for the first day of school. But little else was typical about that day in November 1960. Though she wasn't aware of it, Ruby had been chosen to be the first African-American child to integrate this particular New Orleans grade school. Every day on her way to school, escorted by armed federal marshals, she braved angry whites shouting at her as she entered an empty classroom. White parents had moved their children to other schools. Ruby did not realize until later, when a little boy told her why he couldn't play with her, that she was the reason for all the commotion.

In her interview Sheila Graham noted that even in this stressful situation of having mobs scream at her, little Ruby prayed every day, before and after school, for those who were verbally abusing her. Ruby Bridges Hall explained it this way: "One thing my mother always said to me was that when she couldn't be with me, if I was ever afraid, I should say my prayers . . . Even at night, if I would wake up from a nightmare and want to get up and go to her room, she would immediately ask, Did you say your prayers?' That's where that came from and it sort of stuck with me." 

Ruby's mother wanted her to know that no matter the situation she was never alone. She was connected. To be connected is to have power. It is to have an eternal presence in your life. It is to know Someone cares about you.