A restful Sunday with the family. It got to be about 9 p.m., and I hadn’t fulfilled my project for the day. I drove first to the gas station, and not finding an opportunity there (or not a good one), I drove to Wal-Mart. For a minute while I was parking my car, I’d decided to pray for a greeter. Wal-Mart greeters need prayer, too.
But there was a guy standing next to his truck just a couple of stalls over, apparently waiting for someone. So I called out to him just as he was about to get back into his truck. It was an old red Chevrolet. The guy was no more than 25 years old. He had the look of a country boy, ball cap and all. He was smoking a cigarette. He stepped out toward me as I walked up to him.
“Can I pray for you?” He barely hesitated: “Yeah.” So I prayed for him. After I’d finished, I asked if I could do anything else for him. “Nope, that’s it,” he said. He had a serious look to him, but friendly – if that makes any sense. We shook hands then, and I left.
I found myself in Wal-Mart then. Mary always needs something there. So I called her: dishwasher detergent and trash bags. As I talked to her, I noticed the adrenaline rushing through my legs. It’s a phenomenon that hasn’t really left – the rush that comes in stepping out. It may not be as severe as it was at first, when it sometimes felt crippling. But I remember it always being there, sometimes before I talk to someone and sometimes after.
It’s a good confirmation that I’m still well out of my comfort zone.
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