The clerk said she had three minutes left on her shift, and by the looks of her, she was ready to go. Little Anna was with me. We had just one item to buy, and we wondered for a time whether we'd made the wrong decision getting into that particular check-out lane at Walmart. Just two people in front of us, but it was slow-going.
The clerk was a 50-something woman with blond hair and a tired face. When we reached her, she said she was ready to go home, almost groaning those words. But she wasn't unfriendly. She was just worn out. So after she handed me my receipt, and even as a woman began plopping items onto the conveyor belt behind me, I asked her if I could pray for her.
I tried to do this discretely, leaning over the little counter where she could hear me. But she still asked me again what I said, just to make sure. Her face was uncertain at first, even as she nodded that I could. So I prayed that she would have a good rest of her day, and a great evening.
She smiled then for the first time. "Thank you," she said, "I needed that. I really needed that." I told her that it was no problem, that we all needed prayer. And as we walked off, she turned toward us again, thanking us another time and giving a little wave to Anna.
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