One evening in mid-May, I started a conversation with a young man at a gas station. We were both filling our vehicles with gas on a blustery night.
I said, "The weather turned cool quickly."
He said, "It's not winter, so I'm good with it. I'm counting my blessings."
I agreed.
We continued pumping gas into our respective vehicles.
At one point, he walked over to his passenger side window to talk with his wife, who as sitting in the car, looking at me. Then he came over to me and said, "My wife loves your licence plate holder."
My plate holder says, "MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE CALL ME GRANDMA."
I told them it was a gift from my daughter and that I didn't even notice the top part of it for awhile - "MY FAVOURITE PEOPLE". I only saw the bottom phrase "CALL ME GRANDMA" (because it's bigger and more obvious), and I thought that was terrific.
As I finished filling my vehicle's tank, the young man came over again and said, "I don't know what you believe or if this is okay, but do you believe in Jesus?"
I said, "Yes, I do."
"Do you need a prayer?"
I replied, "Always." (Because really, who doesn't need a prayer?)
He was surprised and pleased with my answer. He asked if there was anything specific I wanted him to pray for. I said, "No."
He asked if he could lay hands on me. I said, "Sure."
He put his hand on my arm, took off his hat, and began to pray for me. He thanked God for me and my life, for my heart, and my gifts. He asked Jesus to bring joy, and joy and joy into my life, and he prayed for my kids and grandkids.
It was such a nice, comforting surprise.
I thanked him and told him that his prayer was lovely. I asked if I could give him a hug, and we embraced.
Young Dillon, wearing a "Demons Fear Me" T-shirt, put a big smile on my face that night.
A testament to being kind to others, to the power of prayer, and a chance meeting at a gas station on a windy Prairie evening.
