The pause may have been longer than the prayer. Even with all the traffic around, I think I could hear crickets. It was so long I thought maybe I’d made him mad when I asked if I could pray for him.
This was the toll road guy, who took my 30 cents as I got off the turnpike. He was an older guy, a rim of white hair around the sides and baldness on top. He was pretty humorless. At first, I started to hand him my business card, which was in my hand for some reason, before I stopped and gave him my turnpike ticket. I chuckled about it. He didn’t.
Then I gave him the change, and asked him if I could ask him a question. Pause. “Can I pray for you?” Pause. Thinking maybe he couldn’t hear me, I asked again. “Can I pray for you?” Pause. He looked at me then. I think all this was a bit of a surprise for him, jolting him out of the monotony. But he finally agreed to it. It was a short prayer. Cars were piling up behind me then. I think I saw a little smile when I thanked him and drove off.
No comments:
Post a Comment