The Kindest Eyes

A few Sundays ago I was pretty surprised when the Baptist pastor called me out by name during a prayer! And it wasn’t short either. He prayed for my health, my renewed strength, but most of all, he prayed for God’s will. This was all a shock because I’m not a member of that church, I don’t even believe in Jesus.... I just like hearing the sermons. Yet, there they were, praying—for me.

After the service ended, I noticed a family to the left of us. A couple of them gazed curiously, probably wondering why I hobble or why I’ve lost my hair. And now that the pastor had prayed for me, well, that incited even more interest.

Sometimes these humanly curious stares can make me uncomfortable, but they didn’t that day. And instead, I met the older couple’s eyes and smiled. Time stopped. 

It was an intimate moment shared between strangers, and I honestly wondered about it all week until Wednesday night when my son came home from youth group.

“Remember that man to the left of us in church? He was a little older?”

Of course I remembered. He was the man with the kind eyes. “Yeah?” I said.

“Well, he died this week in an accident.”

I had to sit down. It felt so surreal.... To think, they’d been praying for me in church, when all of us should have been praying for him.

I might have been given an expiration date by the doctors, but this unexpected death was a stark reminder that all of us face the same inevitable end. 

I wish I would’ve gotten that man’s name. I looked over at my son. “It’s so hard to believe that he died. He really did have the kindest eyes.”