$9.85

In honor of the election (and partially because I failed to register for an absentee ballot), I decided to brave the traffic and drive home so I could cast my vote Tuesday morning. But by the time I got to my home off-ramp, I noticed that the gas needle pointed at Empty. Since I only had about 15 minutes left of the drive to go, I weighed my options carefully. Should I pull over at the nearest gas station—even though it was now dark and I didn’t have much money—or should I keep driving and risk breaking down on the side of the road? As much as I really didn’t want to, I decided to stop anyways. I pulled into the gas station and checked my wallet… 9 dollars and some odd cents was all I had. It was enough to get me home, and that’s all that mattered.

After inserting just $5 into the machine, I turned around to see a lady standing next to my truck and staring at me. “Just how tall are you?” she asked. I looked around… was she talking to me? Oh duh, she had to be talking to me; who else would she ask about their height? “Haha…” I nervously laughed, “well, I’m under 5 feet.” Not too much information, just what she needed to know. I already felt uncomfortable being alone at a sketchy gas station at night and I really didn’t feel like making small-talk with any strangers. “You’re such a cute girl!” she said. “Uhh… thanks…” I replied. The lady proceeded to ask if I was familiar with the area and, since I was, began telling me her story. Apparently, her car’s transmission had broken down on the freeway and she didn’t have the right insurance to get a tow-truck. She left the car on the side of the road and took her kids to a motel so that at least they could be out of the cold and have a roof over their heads. But now, the motel was threatening to kick them out—if they weren’t going to spend the night—and the police were threatening to tow her car away—unless she moved it off the freeway very soon.

She kept talking until I finally stopped her and asked if there was something she needed or something specific I could do to help. “All I need is nine dollars and 85 cents,” she finally told me. 9 dollars and 85 cents? She had to be kidding me. How much money had I counted in my wallet? I remembered having 9 dollars, but exactly how much change did I have? Was it 85 cents? I started laughing just thinking about it; what if I had had exactly $9.85 in my wallet? The lady looked down and mumbled something about how she would laugh too, since it was a silly request. I immediately apologized. “It’s not a silly request at all,” I began, “I’m only laughing because I had 9 dollars and some odd change but just spent 5 dollars of it on this gas.” I felt so terrible! I could have had the money to help her, but spent it on my car instead. As I thought about how I had nothing to give her, I felt God speaking to my heart, helping me to realize that I had something better to offer—prayer. The more I thought about it, the more I felt compelled to ask if I could pray with her. And, as I asked, I felt a strange sense of peace and confidence about doing it. Sure enough, the lady said she’d like that. Almost at the point of tears, she told me, “I know we’re supposed to have faith and all, but I’m just not feeling it right now. Prayer would be good.” I asked for her name and started praying for her right then and there.

This was all very abnormal for me. I always feel uncomfortable being alone at gas stations, but that night, my feelings of discomfort had been especially escalated by the dark night, the sketchy neighborhood, and the stranger that was talking to me. And yet, there I was, in the middle of it all, praying for that stranger – and not feeling uncomfortable or anxious at all. After the prayer, she told me that she felt warmer already and, since we didn’t know what more to say, she walked towards another car, I’m assuming, to re-tell her story.

I have no idea what happened to her, or her kids, or her car. I don’t know if my prayer made any sort of impact on her. I don’t know if she listened as I prayed. I don’t even know if her story was legitimate. But I do know this: God is alive and active; He is working in me. When I got back into my car, the first thing I did was open up my wallet and count my change. What were the chances that I happened to be low on gas, stopped at a gas station I didn’t even like, and had the precise amount of change that somebody needed? If that random change equaled $0.85 exactly, I didn’t know what I was going to do. I probably would have considered doing something drastic (like funneling out the gas I had put in, asking for a refund, and giving the lady the exact amount she needed…) so I was almost relieved when I counted less than 15 cents. Nonetheless, I realized that whether or not I had just what she needed materially, I did have something to offer that she (or anyone) would always need: prayer—connection with the ULTIMATE provider. I realized that reaching out to her through prayer came as a result of everything I’ve been reading, learning, and thinking about lately. It isn’t all just laying dormant in my head—God is compelling me and giving me the courage to live out my faith. Maybe talking and praying with strangers is no-big-deal for some people and maybe things like this happen every day, but I have no idea how I had the confidence to do it except that God lives in me; He is alive and active. That’s what I know.