I couldn’t have captured a better parking spot if I’d prayed for one. The spot was on the end of a row, practically at the Zellers’ front entrance—any closer and it would have been marked ‘handicap’.
Mission accomplished, on my way out of the store, back to my red dirt-streaked van, I passed a hobbling woman. She had a cane. As I hurried past pressing the unlock button on my key, I silently prayed, “Lord, heal her.” I was reaching for the van’s door handle when the woman with the cane caught up to me, “This isn’t yours.”
“Whoops. I have one just like it.”
“That’s okay. I’ve done that myself. Once I thought my husband was picking me up from work and got in with a total stranger.”
“Your dirt streaks are even similar to mine.”
“Red vans, they’re a dime a dozen.”
“I paid a dime for mine, too.”
“I recognize mine by the doo-dad on the mirror.”
I looked at the Christmas decoration hanging from the mirror and then down at her cane, “Well, Merry Christmas and I pray your leg gets better.”
Then she told me about her knee operations and that her legs would never be completely well.
“Jesus can heal you. May I pray for you right now?”
I bent down to touch her leg, “Lord heal these knees…in Jesus name.”
She got into her dirty red van, and filled with joy I headed over to the next row where mine was parked.
I believe God is healing her.
I want to hear about it. I should have given her my phone number.