Johnny on the Corner

W Bellfort & 59-N Frontage Rd.

Tonight I prayed with a homeless man. Actually, he prayed for me, our hands clasped through my open car window. After cleaning my windshield on the corner of W Bellfort and the 59-N Frontage Rd., I handed him a $5 bill - a completely uncharacteristic move for my when-helping-hurts philosophy. But my windshield really needed it, and, hey, he was being proactive.
“Thank you, sir.”
“God bless you. My name’s Johnny.”
“Johnny, I’ll be praying for you.” My internal dialogue quickly chided, “That’s trite. Actually engage with him!”
“Johnny, how can I be praying for you?” I corrected, when I really wanted to just hear his story.
“Hmm, can I pray for you instead?”
So before the cars could start honking, we held hands. “Lord, it’s Johnny and Meredith, and we’re here today as brothers and sisters. You know whatever financial situation we’re in, but we ask you to just be in the midst of it.”
The light changed. I had to cut the beauty of it short. I don’t know his story. I don’t even know if he’s actually homeless. But He prayed. For me. Now, hours later, I still feel the pressure of his handshake.