Thursday, July 1, 2010
I had lunch alone in the topiary park as usual, and as I sat listening to my meticulously groomed and crafted Midday Pandora station, two teenage girls approached me. "We're doing a scavenger hunt for camp - do you know the name of the governor of Ohio?"
I answered correctly, unsure of how this was a scavenger hunt at all, and they told me that they were doing a mission in Columbus about "urban issues" and did I have any prayer requests? Ah, okay. Now this makes sense.
"Nope, got it covered." I felt parallel surges of fondness for them and a desire to crush their dreams.
"Well, what's your name? Do you mind if we pray for you?"
"Sure, whatever, that's fine."
It turns out they meant, do you mind if we pray for you, right now, aloud.
"Heavenly father, we ask that you watch over Evelyn as she eats her lunch today.."
I held half a baby carrot on my tongue, stunned, not wanting to crunch through their conference call, sorting out when I became someone with "urban issues" in need of a deus ex machina type deal.