Day 50: A blue blazer

I rounded the corner and the old man was there, walking toward me. He was well dressed, wearing tan slacks and a blue blazer -- clearly on the way to some event in Old Town. He was probably 75 or even 80 years old, and he kind of looked like Dick Van Dyke. Only shorter. And he didn't smile.

I asked if I could pray for him. "What?" he said. " I asked again. Our faces were maybe six inches apart. He shook his head. "I don't need it. No. I don't." Then he looked at me -- "What do you want?" I told him I wanted to pray for him, just out of kindness. "No," he said again, looking back at me and continuing on his way, kind of fumbling through the words. "I don't need it. No I don't." And that was it. He walked away. And so did I.

I prayed later that someone would be there if ever he did need a prayer.

Day 49: An old truck

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.

Day 48: At the Liquor Store

I left after dark, at the end of a long day, looking for someone to pray for. I wanted to be fast. One of the first businesses I passed was the liquor store. I drove by at first and then thought better of it and turned around.

There were no cars in the parking lot other than the owner’s. Not one customer. I was more comfortable with that anyway. So I walked in. The owner was in a back room on the phone when I came through the doors, and he started walking toward me, asking if I needed help. When I told him what I was up to, he put down the phone. I’m not even sure he said goodbye.

He was Hispanic but spoke very good English. His name was Willy. He was about 45 years old. His first response was to shrug. Then he told me he was Catholic. I said that was great. And then he asked where I was from. I told him I just liked to pray for people and wanted to pray for him. Finally, he relented. It didn’t take much convincing. We both bowed our heads, and I prayed.

Afterward, we had an interesting conversation. Perhaps he was lonely. Not a single customer came in during this time. He told me at some length how business was going. There was new competition just down the street. And another liquor store to the north. And another even farther north. At the same time, the economy still isn’t in great shape. He also talked about the changing seasons. It’s fall now, a time when beer sales tend to drop off, and liquor and wine tend to pick up a little bit.

I asked how he was doing financially. He said OK -- “By the grace of God.” His whole family is Catholic, he explained. Willy’s parents were from Mexico, but he’d been born in El Paso, Texas, and eventually moved to Wichita. His father was in the Air Force but had died 11 years ago. His mother passed away last year.

Willy asked about me, about whether I was married and whether I had children. He also was curious about my prayers for people. He said it caught his attention – certainly not something that happens every day. But he said people will remember things like that long into the future, even if they didn’t like it at first. That’s like your “fingerprint” in their lives – so long as you treat people the right way.

It was encouraging there in the liquor store, listening to this thoughtful man talk about his faith and about Jesus. It wasn’t really what I expected. Anymore, of course, I never really know what to expect. But I pray that he’s right and that God’s fingerprint is left on every person I talk to during this project.

Day 47: The mailman

I was walking down the street. It was virtually deserted. Then the mailman pulled up. He crossed the street and started emptying two mail boxes that were sitting there, not 100 feet in front of me. It was as if it had been planned that way. I'd never prayed for a mailman. And that's the ultimate All-American, good-guy profession. So I stopped next to him.

"Can I pray for you?" I asked. He just shrugged. He was about 50, and skinny. "I suppose so. I need all the help I can get." So I prayed, and he stopped his work for that moment. Then we shook hands, and I left.

Day 46: Squinting

I saw her slowly pushing a shopping cart to her car when I pulled into the Dillons parking lot. This would be quick, I figured. And it was. I walked up to her and asked if I could ask her a question. By then, she was loading groceries into the back of her SUV. She was a big woman, about 60. She didn't move quickly. And she never stopped what she was doing.

It was a beautiful day, and by this time, the sun was beginning to slant with the evening. "Can I pray for you?" I asked. She paused and squinted at me momentarily, and then went back to her loading. "No," she said resolutely. "I wouldn't be interested right now." I asked if she was sure. It would just take a few seconds. By this time, a second woman had walked up behind the car as well, also pushing a shopping cart. Her mother? But the first woman just told me no. She didn't want to be prayed for. She made it clear she didn't want me there. So I thanked her and left.

As I was leaving the parking lot, I glanced back toward their vehicle. It hadn't moved, and the older woman was looking out the passenger side window, watching me drive off. I prayed for them both as I drove home.

We had dinner with friends tonight, and we talked about this project. They remarked that they wouldn't know how to respond to such a question, if approached by a stranger on the street. I understand that. Until I started this, I don't know how I would have responded. So I don't want to judge someone who says no. But I also don't want to stop being bold. For too much of my life, I've been just the opposite. I never said a word, and that's not going to save anyone. So I'll be bold. People may reject me, and that's fine. But I know God can still work there. He can use that seed for good.

Day 45: 'Absolutely'

I remember that word clearly. I stopped by the woman, who was smoking a cigarette outside the Hotel at Old Town, and asked if I could pray for her. The response was immediate. "Absolutely." So I prayed for her to have a safe rest of the day and a good week. It was night by this time. Wednesday is a late day for us at the office. She was a short woman, about 45 years old. The thanked me after I'd finished praying. She said she was from Kansas City.

That concluded my search that day for someone to talk to. I already had passed up three good opportunities that day. In one, a young guy was just sitting in a van listening to music when I pulled into the parking stall next to him. The thought to talk to him was there, certainly, but I told myself perhaps I would do that if he was still there when I left my appointment. Indeed, he was still there. But I didn't talk to him.

Later, I walked right by a guy who was taking old cardboard boxes out of the back of a restaurant in Old Town. I did the same later when a guy walked by on the next street over. And I passed up a chance to talk to a restaurant worker who was sitting out back, smoking a cigarette. After 45 days, you'd think I would have more courage. But it seems so fleeting.

I felt better, though, after I heard that word -- "Absolutely." It makes me wonder about God's provision. I wonder if all these opportunities -- missed opportunities, I initially think -- are just preparation for the one God wants us eventually to take. I don't know what was different about my mindset when I approached her, but she seemed genuinely pleased that I took the effort. I know, however, that it was all God.

Day 44: A 20-cent prayer

I was eager to get out of a conversation with a co-worker. We were standing in front of the office, and I could see a guy walking slowly up the street. The man clearly had nowhere he really needed to go. He was pausing and looking at signs and advertisements on buildings. I couldn't tell whether he was an out-of-town type or not. He was dressed casually and was carrying some sort of a bag. Just as he reached our building, my co-worker finally went inside and I turned toward the man. And he turned toward me.

"Do you have two quarters?" he asked. I could only smile at the question. I was a little short, but I held up my hand anyway. "No, I don't," I said. "But I have two dimes." He seemed happy enough with that, and I motioned him over to the side of the street. I put the change in his hand and told him that I'd made myself a deal -- that if anybody ever asked me for money, I would seek to pray for him first. He just nodded, and we both bowed our heads.

I prayed for God's blessing and for him to find peace. He thanked me afterward. He said his name was Andre, and in response to my question, said he was from Kansas City and Wichita. He was friendly, but not talkative. We shook hands then, and he left. I saw him a little while later, still wandering slowly along the sidewalk. He saw me as I was getting into my car, and he waved.