It was a Friday night, and the end to an unkind week. I was the kind of tired that let my body pour into my pillow at 6:45, and that even made checking my notifications seem an arduous task.
Just before closing my eyes for the night I remembered a Praise and Worship event I had been excited for just that past Sunday. It went through my head that I would be late and that there would be other opportunities, but it also went through my head that there was time for sleeping over the weekend.
So I jumped in my car, and shortly thereafter I unknowingly arrived on the opposite side of Clark Park to the event. It wasn’t long after I started the necessary trek that I heard footsteps following behind me just a little too close. I stepped slightly off the track to examine some tree or bush or some other, and hoped the footsteps would pass me by.
But they didn’t. As I stopped, so did they, and I was forced to lock eyes with whoever it was that thought it okay to follow a girl alone in a park.
“Are you with the group with the guitar?” Came the subdued voice of the 15-year-old and 110-pound boy before me.
I scanned him once. He had something held slightly behind his hip, but there really was nothing about him that was intimidating to me, so I dropped my guard. I told him I supposed I was with the group with the guitar, and I resumed my usual smile. He offered to take me there if I was feeling lost, and I asked him if I really looked so lost. We both laughed, and continued on the path together.
We talked on the way, and I learned a little bit about where he was born, and how he ended up in Detroit. I told him a little bit about where I grew up, and what brought me here. I invited him to join us for the first few songs, and he did. Then he joined us for prayer. Then for the rest of the night.
This boy and I ended up praying together after our group closed, and we talked about a lot of things that aren’t mine to repeat. I ended up telling him he gets to decide who he is every day, and he told me that was really important to him. It was an important moment for me too, and I felt lucky I could be what he needed for the evening.
Before he left he pulled an orange carnation from behind his hip, and gave it to me. It sits flattened in my Bible for the rest of my evenings.
What a beautiful encounter all stored up in that orange carnation you pulled out of your bible on Saturday. I’m glad that you got to share that evening with the little kid and have that story to take with you as this program wraps up.