He was a tough-looking guy, wearing a ball cap and glasses. He was filling up a white Chevrolet S-10 pickup. I loosely observed him put the pump back onto the handle and twist on the gas cap. He was about to leave, so I stepped over to him, talking to him across the bed of his truck. "Can I pray for you?" I asked.
That stopped him. He just looked at me. "Now what did I do to deserve that?" There was something in his tone. It was one of those where you accentuate every word in the asking of the question. So I thought this might be problematic.
"Well, nothing," I said. "I just try to pray for someone every day, and you're it." In an instant, he seemed satisfied with that. He seemed to lighten, if just a little. "Sure you can," he said. So I did, still talking across the bed of that truck.
I told God that I didn't know this man, but that I prayed he would be blessed in whatever it was he was doing that night. The guy thanked me then. "I'm headin' home," he said. And he got in his truck. Good enough.
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