By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
I stood at the check-out counter of my favorite retailer, admiring the silver cross worn by the female employee. Oxidized, the piece was unique in design and about three inches tall, hanging from a silver chain. Nothing frilly or engraved, almost rugged, but simple.
When it was my turn to pay, I stepped up with my purchases and said, “That’s a beautiful cross you’re wearing.”
A quiet thank you.
“It’s very unique,” I added.
Momentary silence as she scanned the prices of my items.
Unsmiling, though not gruff or rude, she glanced up quickly. “It was my son’s and he recently took his life.”
Wow.
Not what I expected to hear that day.
Definitely not what she had expected to endure on any day.
I said something inane like, “I’m so sorry. That makes it even more special.”
She nodded. Still somber. “It came in the mail the day after he died. He never got to wear it.”
Lightly touching the cross at the neckline of her blouse, she said, “I wear it for him.”
By then I was speechless but managed a parting wish for peace.
I wanted to say so much more. Wanted to offer comfort, hope. But as quickly as she told me, I had to step away for the next customer to take my place.
The experience reminded me that we have no idea what another person we meet in public has gone through. We have no clue about the pain in their life. And we have no right to ourselves in those moments—our hurry, our frustrations, our plans and schedules, our distractions or impatience.
But we can be courteous and pleasant. Sensitive. We can make eye contact and smile. We can pray for them as we walk to our car.
In some situations where time and privacy are more abundant, we may ask if we can pray for them and offer a sincere prayer for comfort.
And we can remember that we serve a mighty God who hears the cry of the wounded and our unexpected, spontaneous prayers for them no matter where we are.
The earnest prayer of a righteous person has
great power and produces wonderful results.
James 5:16
~
Mr. Hutton turned away from his sons and with a hard stride, crossed the yard and stopped before the table. A frown marred his striking features. Abrupt and distant, he grabbed a box-lunch and dismissed Ella with a surly glance, as though she were a distasteful morsel.
Stricken deeper than she would have expected, she fingered the collar of her blouse and forced her stinging eyes elsewhere. He’d been kinder at the studio. With renewed fervor, she added a stony layer to her emotional blockade and busied her hands rearranging boxes, ladling lemonade for thirsty cowboys, and serving thin slices of berry and apple pie that Helen brought to the table.
Until Mr. Hutton came back.
Angered by his reappearance, she steeled herself against his good looks. Did he think her feather-headed and easily fooled, too dimwitted to observe his different vest and hat? She tugged at her apron and ignored his heavy presence, standing there waiting, as if in need of her notice. Well, she did notice. It was her job to regard such details. Even his belt was different.
She looked up. The same blue eyes took her in but without scorn. Clearer, this time, with no frown cutting between the brows. Her breath caught at an unlikely possibility. Searching the crowd, she spotted Mr. Hutton straddling a log and eating like a heathen.
But that was impossible. He was standing right . . .
Her gaze shifted back to the tall cowboy calmly waiting, a dimple stitched into one cheek as he held out his empty cup. ~A Change of Scenery
Not what I expected Share on XInspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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