The Hunter’s Prayer

This was originally on my board and in my mind as part of a bigger story.  However, too many events, too many pushing jobs, on top on jobs, on top of jobs has made that story disappear.

When I worked at WORSHIP, I carpooled with Keith Scott.  He also rode with me on the way to visit my brother in the hospital.

Keith Scott and his wife had one car.  She was a nurse.  I believe they have three children.  I don’t exactly remember.  This was 1992 and 1993.

They were a nice family.  The wife was overly sweet, I am sure she still is.  Someone who has had it hard and knows the value of a kindness.

What I remember is how hard it was on Keith Scott to accept a ride from me.  Being a man and not being able to be the man he wanted to be and thought God wanted him to be.

Shame has a way of sitting on you.  I saw it on him.  It takes something away from you that you cannot deceive others with.

This late afternoon, I had picked up Keith Scott from his home and we started off to work.  I stopped for gas.  Across the street was an old house of less than a few hundred square feet with no windows that “sold” produce.  I have no idea what kind of a person buys food or produce from a house that looked like that one.

I started to go to the pump to pump gas when – DANGER – NOW!

I looked around quickly and told Keith we needed to go inside.  This was out of my norm for me.

What I felt was an awareness that there was a black man and a white woman together and something was going to be done.

The closest explanation I can give is that it felt like an attack.  It felt physical to me.  It felt like immediate danger.

I was not going to let that happen to Keith.

When I pumped the gas, I will not share what I did to create security and protection for us.  I did it.  Not just for he and I, or our families.  It was done for all of mankind.

I doubt he ever knew there was a threat.

When I saw his son the other day, I swear he looks just like him.  All grown-up and doing well.  Then, I see an argument and disagreement between parents and child in my head.  This child that is now a man deserves to be on a better path to life because he is capable.

He is the baby of the family.  His family – every one of them – so loves him.  I am not certain if he has allowed that to fill his heart and resonate there.

Knowing you are loved in your head and knowing you are loved in your heart are two different things.

Do you want to know why this is titled The Hunter’s Prayer?

So, do I.

Because I believe I saw the reason just the other day.