He sat alone in a booth, eating waffle fries and looking lonely.
“I think its him,” I told Sarah.
“Yes. When I walked by his eyes locked on mine and I knew,” she replied, “Do we just go?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
We hopped down from our tall chairs by the window and approached him.
His name is Bill. He prays everyday. He loves the Lord. His son is going on a mission trip to Washington this summer, and his grandson has epilepsy. He didn’t have any personal prayer requests. At least not that he shared with Sarah and I.
We prayed for him. We encouraged him. He thanked us.
Sometimes Jesus takes you to Chick-fil-A so you can pray for one of His children.
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