It has been a helluva day. Nothing horrible happened, but it was one of those days that just ground away at me. It happens. Pecked to death by ducks seems to be an appropriate metaphor. I just felt raw.
When I got home I walked Dog 3.0, which helped. Dogs can certainly change your perspective on life. The most important thing is whatever smell rises from the intersection of grass and tree trunk. Dogs live in the olfactory present. I was less raw but certainly not ready to break out in song.
I sat on the porch in the ancient blue recliner that was old when we got it. It has been the resting place of many a dog butt. It’s comfy. Then the doorbell rang. I was annoyed. I got up and walked to the door, determined to be gruff with the patchouli-drenched Greenpeace canvasser who was undoubtedly lurking on the stoop.
It wasn’t a Greenpeacer. It was a couple of kids. No one was wearing a Girl Scout uniform, just street clothes.
I swallowed my grumpy and opened the door. Two kids from the church behind me introduced themselves and told me that their summer program was starting up next week, and they wanted to teach the kids that it is better to give than receive. They didn’t ask for any money. They didn’t ask for anything.
They just asked if they could perform an act of service for me this summer. They suggested washing my truck (it needs it so they’re perceptive), weeding (ditto), helping with household tasks. “We just want to give service.”
I am reluctant to accept help since there are so many folks who need it more than I do, but I agreed that sometime this summer, I would love for them to wash my truck. They took notes and said they would contact me later this summer. I can drive through the car wash, but this will allow some kids to get soapy and make someone happy.
As they left, the young woman, maybe 14 or 15, turned around and said, “Sir, can I pray for you about anything?”
Well.
Irrespective of your faith (or lack of it), it’s a pretty powerful thing to have a stranger want to pray for you for anything. Whether prayer “works” or not (it does for me) you have to accept that it’s a small, thoughtful kindness. Perhaps she recognized my weariness after a long, raw day. Even if she didn’t, it didn’t seem forced or that it was part of a script.
Someone asking if they could pray for me is a question I hadn’t heard in a while. Frankly, it so caught me off guard that I felt genuine human compassion for some suffering unknown to her. I was a little verklempt. Neither of us said anything. I thought about it. I had an idea.
“You can pray that my work might be a little easier.”
She smiled and said “I can do that. I’ll do it tonight and tomorrow, and after that if I remember.”
I think I’m a little less raw now.
Respectfully submitted,
Canoelover
Your blog posts are always little snippets that brighten up any moment!
I am a little less raw now too.