Day 197: Larry

He was very cooperative. I didn't really expect it. Stereotypes can do that. He was standing next to a car, innocently enough. But he had a goatee, white with age, and was wearing a Harley Davidson ball cap. So when I stopped to ask if I could pray for him, I really didn't know what to expect. But as always, I was ready for anything -- from getting yelled at to getting a hug.

But I remember his bright blue eyes, looking at me curiously. Those eyes showed surprise at first, and then -- once I explained my project -- they showed interest. "Sure you can pray for me," he said, still looking at me intently. So I did. Afterward, he shook my hand and thanked me. He said his name was Larry.

Day 196: Packers fan

He was filling up a pickup truck at QuikTrip. He was about my age, wearing a black Green Bay Packers stocking cap. My question took him by surprise, and he hesitated, but he said "sure." I clarified that I wanted to pray for him right then, and he got a little more squeamish, but he still said that I could. So I prayed for a blessing for him, noting in my prayer that he'd already been blessed with a Super Bowl win.

He had bowed his head, and when he looked up after the prayer, he had a big grin on his face. He stuck out his hand to shake mine, and he thanked me. Then we chatted a few minutes about Green Bay and about the big game. When he got into his truck, he thanked me again. "I'll return the favor tonight," he said.

Day 195: Socks

I needed socks. This wasn't really a pressing need -- although I was getting down a relatively slim number of viable socks that were capable of covering my entire foot, including the heel. But I needed to pray for someone, so I figured now was as good a time to buy socks as any. And like any such trip to Walmart, Mary heaped a couple of more items on me -- bar soap and dog food.

So I was walking through the store with my 10-pack of socks, an eight-pack of soap and a box of Ol' Roy. That's when I came across a guy pushing a shopping car that contained a box fan. I stopped him and asked my question. He just looked back at me with dull, slowly comprehending eyes. Then he said no. So I tried to convince him, telling him I like to pray for someone every day. "No, I don't need it," he said. "I go to church all the time." That was a good enough answer for me, and I didn't push it. So I thanked him, and headed for the cash register with my bounty.

There was an old lady there telling jokes. Actually, she was struggling with the credit card swiper. She kept signing her name and then pushing "cancel," which erased her signature and asked her to sign it again. This occurred several times. When she finally got it figured out, she turned to the cashier: "What did the picture say to the wall? 'First they framed me, and then they hanged me.'" That gave me a chuckle, so I'm passing it on.

Day 194: The black hood

I never really saw his face. He had a black hoodie on, and he never actually looked at me. He was an older guy. He didn't look happy.

So when I pulled into the gas station and hopped out of the car and asked him my question, he never took his eyes off the gas pump as he punched in some numbers. "No. I don't think so," he said. "Thank you." There wasn't anything friendly about him. He just wanted me to go away. That was clear.

So I did. I hopped back in my car and drove off, praying for him as I went.

Day 193: The fire captain

I don't actually know that he was a captain. But he was high ranking. You could tell by his uniform, and the way he carried himself. I saw him from the street, filling up one of the big red Suburbans that high-ranking fire officials drive around in. He was about 50 years old. His jacket said his name was Eddie.

I turned around and drove over to him. His pump was set well away from other gas pumps, and he was kind of off in the dark. He looked right at me through his glasses as I asked my question. It surprised him. There was that moment of silence, as the cold drizzle fell on us. And then he said, "What?"

So I asked him again, and told him I like to pray for one person every day. He understood then, but shook his head. "No, I'm OK," he said. I asked him then if he was sure. "No thanks, I'm fine," he said. So I left. He wasn't unfriendly. He just didn't want a prayer. I prayed for him anyway on my way home.

Day 192: Bass Pro

He was standing next to a big red truck and was wearing a Bass Pro Shops cap. He was an older guy, probably in his 70s, just patiently waiting for the gas pump to stop.

I asked him my question. There was a dumbfounded look. And so I explained I like to pray for someone every day. He smiled then. He seemed to like that idea. "Is that so?" he said. And so he agreed to let me pray for him. I waited a few moments first for him to figure out his gas cap and to retrieve his receipt from the gas pump. Then I prayed.

He thanked me. I told him to have a good night. "I'll do that," he said, as he shut the door to his truck.

Day 191: Reverence

His most distinctive feature was he was tall, standing well above me and well over his little four-door sedan as he filled up with gas. He was in his 20s and fashionably dressed, wearing thick-rimmed glasses. I stopped him before he folded himself up in his car to drive away. I asked him my question.

"I wouldn't mind that," he replied. So I prayed for him right there, just a short prayer asking for God's blessing. When I looked up, he had his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed -- a picture of reverence. He thanked me and shook my hand before he left.

Day 190: Orange slush

Apparently, good behavior was observed. And a reward was promised. So I was ordered on my way home to go to Sonic for four orange slushes for the children. Dutifully, I went there and prayed for the carhop.

She was a cheerful young woman, likely still in high school, wearing a headband to keep the cold out. When I asked her my question, she said, "Absolutely!" So I prayed for her. She thanked me and went on her way. I balanced the drinks all the way home.

Day 189: Pedialyte

Sam woke up last night throwing up. I counted five times in all. Then it moved south. I won't describe that. Sorry for the graphic details. I just had to tell someone. So tonight Mary sent me for some Pedialyte. I found a bottle and prayed for the clerk who was in the check-out lane at Leeker's.

She was about 20 years old, maybe not even that. And she looked at me a bit dumb-founded and then a little relieved. "That would be really nice," she said. So I prayed for her. Then I asked her if she needed it. "It's been one of those days," she said.

We'd had a day, too. The Sam Situation was followed by the funeral of Mary's grandfather. Before he died, he asked that I officiate the funeral. Obviously, I'd never done that before. But I got some help from my pastor, and a lot of prayer, and it went well. I was honored to do it -- and particularly glad at the chance to share God's Word.

Day 188: Glen the greeter

His name was Glen, a greeter at Walmart. God really must have wanted me to pray for Glen because He had me wandering around tonight not finding many good opportunities to reach someone. So the last resort, of course, is Walmart. Mary did need dishwasher soap.

Glen was a big guy, and he smiled when I told him I had a question for him. "I'll give you an answer if I can," he said. "Oh, you'll be able to answer this one," I replied. And he did -- a very hesitant "yes." But I gave Glen one more chance for an out, telling him I wanted to pray for him right there. Again, the hesitant "yes." So we prayed.

I reached out to shake Glen's hand. "I like to pray for one person every day, and you're it," I said then. He smiled again at that. His hand was a little sweaty.

Day 187: Moving

He was a round guy, holding some QuikTrip food next to a Budget moving truck. It was a big truck. I hopped out of Mary's mini-van and asked him my question just before he climbed back aboard. "What?" he asked, very confused. So I asked again. "No thanks," he said then. "I'm all right. I've got to get home." And then he slammed the door, and the truck lumbered away. He never said where home was, but I watched as he got on the highway and drove north. I just finished getting gas, and then I went home.

Days 185 & 186: Sorrow

The past two days have been a blur. Mary's grandfather was moved home from the hospital. He'd opted for hospice care. The prognosis for health wasn't good. And Wednesday night, things slid downhill quickly. Mary and I were there at his bedside, with a lot of other family, watching him take difficult breaths -- sad that he would be leaving us but glad that he was going to a place so much better than here. We prayed together as a family that God would be there with us in that time.

The hospice worker's name was Judy. She came in at about 9 p.m. with an enormous cup of pop and intent on being there all night. But she was so friendly and caring to both the family and Doyle. She cried as the family cried. I offered her a prayer before we went home for the night, and she gladly accepted.

Doyle died at about 8:45 a.m. Thursday morning.

We spent the evening with Mary's family, working up some biographical information for the funeral. On the way home, we were so tired -- physically and emotionally. But I decided this project can't stop. I know where Doyle is now. Don't we all want to get there, too, and bring as many people along with us as possible?

So we did the only thing we could at that point: Go to Sonic. I was hungry anyway. The carhop looked at me strangely for a moment, but she said I could pray for her. It was a good moment in the middle of a difficult time.

After six months ...

I had to search for my feelings about this project as I hit the half-way mark. When something becomes so ingrained in your life, you sometimes don't think about it much -- unless it's right at hand. That's how this project has gotten at times. Usually, it takes me a moment to remember who it was I encountered the previous day. And without looking at the blog, I wouldn't have any idea who I talked to last week.

The risk is losing sight of God's blessings. It's like your family, or your health, or your job. Sometimes you don't always appreciate them for what they are. And this project is one of God's blessings to me. I feel so fortunate to have felt a calling by God to serve him. And I feel so fortunate that he gave me the courage to obey him. Because if there's one thing I know, it's that I couldn't do this alone. I wouldn't have done it. I couldn't have mustered anywhere close to the courage required.

And so half-way through this project, all I can be is thankful. I'm so thankful for what God is doing in my life and what God is letting me be part of. I think back on all the people I've met and talked to. I've gotten some very positive reactions and some very negative ones. One guy offered to pray for me. Another guy yelled at me. One grilled me with questions. And a whole bunch of people have let me pray for them. But all of them have had God presented to them and had a chance to respond.

So I've got six more months, and I can't wait to see what else God has in store.

"Taste and see that the Lord is good;
     blessed is the man who takes refuge in him." -- Psalm 34:8

Day 184: Spaghetti sauce

Back at Leeker's, buying spaghetti sauce. I didn't find a good opportunity to pray for someone inside the store. But have you ever noticed how men tend to dominate in the frozen food aisles while women tend to do so everywhere else? Maybe it was just the time I was there, but I walked through the store twice and couldn't help but notice the gender gap. I suppose that means men tend to prefer just to warm up their food?

Anyway, on my way out of the store, I encountered an employee who was walking in. She was about 60 years old, wearing an apron, and I figured she just had been out for a smoke break. Her name tag said she was Connie. I asked her my question. "Do I need a prayer?" she replied, looking at me suspiciously. I told her about my project, and she smiled finally and said I could pray for her. When I told her I wanted to pray for her right there, she laughed out loud. But she agreed. Connie thanked me afterward.

Day 183: Daisies

Daisies cost more at Valentine's Day. I figured as much, and it was confirmed when I saw the little round vase filled with them at a cost of $25. But I love my wife, and she loves daisies, so I proudly walked through Leeker's with the vase balanced in my hand. I was at Leeker's because about a year ago, Valley Center had two flower shops but both have disappeared since then. Getting flowers at the grocery store was the logical next step.

The clerk was a nice woman, about 50 years old, and she frowned a little at my question. "Why?" she asked. I've gotten that question quite a few times, like the person wonders what they've done to make it so blatantly obvious that they need a prayer. So I told her about my project and she immediately agreed. "You never can have too many prayers," she said. There was another person waiting in line behind me, so I didn't push her to pray for her right then. Normally I would have, and I don't know what made me stop. But as I started to walk off I told her again that I'd pray for her. She nodded and smiled.

Today is a special day in this project. It fully wraps up the first half of the year and starts the second half. I need to come up with some thoughts about this, but my mind is a bit blank right now. I will say that God has shown me what it means to be obedient. And he's shown me what it means to trust him. There's not much reason to think that anything I'm doing will make any difference for anyone -- unless I trust that God has a plan. I've got another 182 days to be part of that plan.

Day 182: Red Robin birthday

We had a birthday for our new 6-year-old today. She was very excited, and she wanted to go to Red Robin to celebrate. So we did. We like Red Robin for one primary reason (other than the fact that I just really like hamburgers). It's noisy. Taking four kids anywhere requires an environment where they can be themselves without getting shushed. So noisy places are where we go.

The waitress was a nice young woman named Shanae. As she brought us a box to put our leftovers in, I asked her if I could pray for her. She said she would like that. So there, among the hubbub, she leaned down to hear my prayer. Then she put her hand over her heart and thanked me. "I really appreciated that," she said.

Day 181: Little hands

The guy's truck said McBeans Decals. It was a catchy name. I don't know whether he was McBean or whether he just worked for him, but I waited until he was done washing the grime off his windows before I asked him my question. He looked at me kind of funny and said I could pray for him. But before he let me, he asked why I wanted to do it right then. I said it was my mission for the year to pray for one person a day. He said that was a good mission. So I prayed. And he shook my hand.

That was the rather ordinary part of the day. The extraordinary part was what happened earlier, in the hospital room of Mary's grandfather. As I've written before, he's been struggling to recover from a broken hip. All sorts of medical complications have come up. Today, he asked me to pray for him before we left. So I did. And then, as we continued small talking and without any prompting from any of us, our 4-year-old daughter asked her great-grandfather if she could pray for him. Seeing her standing there, her little hands together and her head bowed, praying that he would feel better, was the best feeling in the world. I will say that she's been consistent in remembering him in her prayers -- whether at the dinner table or before bed. But nothing can quite prepare you for the displays of faith that come from your little ones.

Day 180: Melting

He was cleaning the trash out of the garbage cans outside QuikTrip, and he said almost with no hesitation that I could pray for him. He had a shaved head and looked right at me through his glasses. I noticed he was wearing shorts. It was warmer that day, but not that warm.

I prayed for him then. Another thing I noticed was how noisy it was there, with cars at the evening rush hour going in and out of the parking lot and water pouring off the roof as the snow melted. I prayed that he would have a blessed rest of his day.

Day 179: Getting away

So you've probably noticed, I pray a lot at gas stations. I can usually find a guy standing there passing time. Since I'm there so much, you'd think both my wife's van and my car would always have full tanks. Nope. Just mine mostly. Today, my wife had to stand out in the freezing cold filling up her tank. It was record-cold out, minus 14 while she was outside. (And no one prayed for her!) So I'll be taking her van out more on my prayer missions.

Today's was a lot like yesterday's. Same pump, in fact. The guy was filling up an old SUV. He was wearing a cammo jacket and had a little mustache. He just took one look at me after I'd asked my question and promptly said, "No." Then, he turned immediately and headed for his car door. "Are you sure?" I asked as he got in. "Yes," he said. And mere seconds later, he was gone.

It's not often they flee that fast. I prayed for him anyway. And no, I didn't need gas.

Day 178: Two reasons

He was standing like a statue, watching the numbers run up on the gas pump. I stepped around the corner and asked him my question. He glanced at me and looked back at the pump. He was a short guy, wearing an Oklahoma State cap and glasses. "Well ... " he said.

Not much for an answer. So I told him I like to pray for one person every day. I asked him if he had a moment for a quick prayer. "Well," he said again, giving me two reasons why he didn't have a moment: "I've got to finish this (by this, he meant pumping gas). And then I've got to get home."

I wouldn't call them strong reasons why he couldn't spare 10 seconds for a prayer. But I didn't think it was right to push him. He made almost no eye contact this entire time. So I just thanked him and said I wouldn't bother him any longer. I prayed for him later.

Day 177: The express line

I carefully counted out my eight items in the 15-items-or-less line. The guy at the register was about 20 years old, with a head of bushy hair. He was friendly and efficient. It was about 5 p.m. and snowing heavily outside.

The Dillons store was busy, but no one was coming along in the line behind me, so I asked the clerk if I could pray for him. He said yes. Afterward, he reached his hand over and shook mine. His name was Jarrod.

Day 176: Off-road

I was at the gas station getting gas (legitimately this time) when a guy in a very large pickup pulled in next to me. He was an imposing guy, pretty stout himself, and I stepped over to ask him my question. He immediately agreed.

He told me he was a member of the Christian Off-Road Association. It's a group of people who basically go anywhere they possibly can in very large Jeeps. But instead of going off on their excursions with a case of beer, they keep it wholesome. Their website says this: "We’re a group of Christians who love the outdoors. Our goal is to build unity among Christians and have fun in the process. We want to share in great experiences while enjoying the world God has created."

I think that's pretty awesome. And when it storms, they help people out of the snow or wherever else they get stuck. Needless to say, he welcomed the prayer but wanted to deflect it away from him and to his uncle, Fred, who is in the hospital with cancer. So we prayed for God's healing hand.

Day 175: In the band

He was cleaning the windows of his car. He was about my age, wearing a green ball cap. I asked over the hood of his car whether I could pray for him. He looked at me kind of strangely as he finished wiping down the passenger-side window. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked. I told him simply that I try to pray for one person every day.

He considered this a moment, and then said yes. He came around his car, and I walked around a pillar to where he was standing. His next question surprised me. "Can you pray for a friend of mine?" Absolutely. He said his friend, whose name is Mark, was a sound tech in a major band that was having financial difficulty. The band was considering dropping Mark from the payroll. So we prayed, first for my friend in the green hat and then for Mark and his band's financial situation.

The guy in the green hat shook my hand then, asked me my name and thanked me. It was a good conversation. God has provided me with some great ones lately.

Day 174: A protest

We had left the hospital, where we'd found Mary's grandfather getting progressively worse. The broken hip has led to a number of other problems that the doctors can't seem to keep up with. We prayed for him again in his room, this time in the critical care wing of the hospital -- both Mary and I glad for his faith but worried nonetheless.

So we left that place, which was made mellow by the notion of the end of life, and were driving back toward the highway when we saw people protesting the the same thing, but in a much different way. Two men and a woman were bundled up, standing in front of a women's clinic, singing from a hymn book. One of the men was holding a sign, indicating this was a place that supported abortion.

We read about people like this a lot, and I've encountered many of them in my own work -- people who spend their lives actively trying to bring an end to abortion. For these, that meant sidewalk protests. So I turned our van around and stopped to get out to talk to them. They greeted me kindly, although I could tell they were a little bit suspicious of me at first. Probably rightly so. The war they're fighting has proven to be a dangerous one.

But when I told them I wanted to pray for them, they warmed up a little. I asked if they were Christians, which was a dumb question considering the hymn book and what looked like a rosary one of them was holding. They said I could pray for them, but the leader asked if I could wait until they finished singing their hymn. I hadn't realized I'd interrupted it. So I waited while they sang a song I'd never heard before.

A couple minutes later, a young Hispanic woman walked around the corner, looking for the door of the clinic. So I got to see my three protesters in action. They asked her what she was doing there. She was coming for a pap smear, she said, and I instantly was glad the protesters had a female among them who could tell the young woman about other clinics where she could go that wouldn't charge her for services. The young woman had said she was concerned about the cost.

Then the young woman looked at the sign the leader was holding and said she wasn't there for an abortion. Everything about her was friendly, and willing to listen to what they had to say. But the leader told her what he thought. "Don't go in there. There are other places that can help you. These people won't help you," he said.

Then the female protester gave the young woman a hug, and she walked off. The leader wasn't done, yet. "You're beautiful," he said after her.

And so I got educated. I don't know whether the young woman went inside or not because I was praying for them then. Afterward, the leader handed me his camera and asked that I take a picture of them under the sign of the clinic, which I did. Then I left.

Day 173: Jesus saves

I was stepping through the slush of the parking lot as I watched him walking toward me. He was a young, skinny guy, wearing a plaid hoodie that covered his head. He had earbuds, and so he didn't hear me at first when I spoke to him. Then he pulled them out.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He hesitated, and then, "No. I'm of a different religion," he said. I was a bit surprised by that, most of the time expecting to find people around here with no religion rather than a different one altogether. So I asked him what his religion was. He told me the name, but I'd never heard of it and can't remember it even now. But I remember how he responded to my question about what it was all about. "It's a racist religion," he explained. "Racist?" I asked. He persisted: "Yeah. Well, it's more of a separatist religion. We don't believe the races should intermix."

This clearly was uncharted territory for me. And a bunch of garbage, for sure. But I wasn't there to argue. So I said the best thing I knew to say. "I just want you to know something," I said. "Jesus died for your sins. ... And he loves you very much." My separatist friend just looked at me. He apparently wasn't one to argue either. He just kind of nodded and walked off. I watched him go.

When I got to my car, I wondered if I'd handled it right. Was I too stern with him? Should I have brought up the whole sin issue? But in my heart, I felt the words were the right ones. I'd proclaimed Christ, and now it was up to that young man what he did with that information. And when the radio came on in my car, it was playing Jeremy Camp's song, "Jesus Saves." That's kind of been my anthem for this project because it's such an awesome message. I just pray that message will make a difference in the life of the guy in the plaid hoodie.

Day 172: Not needed

I was walking in Old Town and it was cold. My face felt frozen. His face already was.

He walked out the front doors of the Hotel at Old Town just as I was coming up the sidewalk. He was about 60 years old -- a short, round man with a scowling face. I nodded to him, but he looked away. So I stopped. "Excuse me, sir," I said. He turned back toward me, looking at me with eyes that were cold and that didn't get warmer.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked away then, and started to move away. "No," he said, "not needed." I stared at his back as he started walking. "Not needed?" I asked. So he said it again, "Not needed." And then he was gone.

It was a brief exchange, and nothing about him was friendly. Of course, I prayed for him anyway. For some reason, I get a lot of joy in praying for someone who doesn't want to be prayed for.

Day 171: Not into it

He was bundled up. All I could see were his eyes when he looked at me. It had to have been about 10 degrees outside. He was filling up with gas when I pulled into the gas station and stepped around the pump to ask my question. He didn't want any of it.

"You'd be wasting you time," he said, turning away from me to twist his gas cap onto his car. I asked him why. "I'm just not into it," he said as he kept moving, now reaching for his car door. "I don't want any of that stuff. You'll have to go find someone else."

"I'll pray for you anyway," I said, wanting him to know that I really would, and knowing that might provoke him. "You can do whatever you want," he said. Then he shut his door. A moment later, we were driving away in opposite directions. I did pray for him, that God would wake him up.

Strangely, I had a real peace in my heart through this whole episode. Not even much adrenaline. It didn't feel to me to be overly dramatic, just sad.

Day 170: A prayer in a snowstorm

Leaving work wasn't easy. One of my co-workers said the hardest part was getting out of the parking lot, and upon arriving there, I found a guy stuck in the middle of it in his little car, his wheels spinning away in the snow. So another guy and I pushed him out. The driver then attempted to turn onto Douglas, but a little incline and a decent pile of snow stopped him again. So the other guy and I helped him change directions and head north instead. All the while the wind was numbing our faces and sucking the air out of our lungs. The snow was blowing sideways.

A moment later, I was sitting in my frigid car, which was being rocked by the wind, waiting for it to warm up and wondering why I didn't pray for either of those two guys. This wasn't a day to go driving around looking for someone. So I waited. Earlier, I'd seen a guy walking down the sidewalk along Douglas. Maybe there would be another.

Sure enough. He was headed west, the wind whipping across his body. He wore a hooded coat and a stocking cap. I stepped out of my car when he got close. "Can I pray for you?" I asked. He looked at me with that look I always get. "Why?" he asked. He was probably 30 years old, with a mustache and bad teeth. My own mouth already was numb. This was no time for questions. But I told him that I pray for one person every day.

So he said OK, and I prayed -- for warmth. A moment later, he shook my hand, thanked me and kept walking. I don't know where he came from or where he was going. I got back in my car and gunned it out of the parking lot.