The other day I was having lunch with a wonderful older couple in my new church. After our bread arrived, I prayed a blessing over our meal. The prayer was nothing special, just a simple sharing of thanksgiving to God for the goodness we enjoy, and a request for blessing, nourishment, and strength for the journey of faith.
Following the prayer, the three of us continued in conversation, enjoying the fellowship and good food. We were practically oblivious to others around us; we were simply concentrating on our own sharing.
And then another approached. She was not someone any of us knew. But she extended her hand and said: "I'm sorry to interrupt you, and I wasn't even going to come over. But then I was just waiting for my check to come, and I felt like I needed to come speak. I just lost my mother two months ago, and I've been having the hardest time. I know that when you were praying, you were just praying for you all, but I just wanted you to know that it felt like you were praying for me, too. As you prayed, I felt the Holy Spirit, and I wanted to thank you. I needed that."
For the longest time, I was a person who felt a little funny about praying openly in restaurants. (Yes, I do realize how strange this sounds coming from a preacher). I'll never feel funny about it again.
1 comment:
Your prayers sure touched me more than you will ever know. I sure miss you.
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