Mary and I were out eating dinner, a rare event on a weeknight -- or any night for that matter. We had been observing the waitress. She was a stickler. Apparently, it's impossible to substitute entrees -- even for a cheaper one -- on the 2-for-$20 menu. But she was friendly and apologized that the food was slow in coming.
After she's brought us our check, I stopped her and asked if we could pray for her. "Pay for me?" she asked, a little confused. No, I explained, really enunciating now: "Can we p-r-a-y for you?" She seemed to lean back a little then. "Do I need prayer?" I told her that I didn't necessarily think she needed a prayer but that I was offering one if she wanted it. She hesitated more when I told her I wanted to pray right then, and she kept glancing over at Mary, who was observing for the first time one of my daily exchanges with a stranger.
Finally, the waitress let me pray, and it was a quick prayer. She thanked us then and left. I finished signing off on the bill. It is amazing how the compulsion to tip well came on me just then.
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