I witnessed an odd thing the other day. Two women seated near me in a restaurant joined hands and then started to pray. Their table was in the middle of five other occupied tables, in the corner of a crowed dinning room. I see Christians pray frequently. It is no big deal. It's one of those ubiquitous parts of American life that is as normal as men shaving on the way to work. Normally, one sees it and says nothing. Except for this time. The women prayed for five minutes. They cried too. I saw them wiping tears. At times they would raise a hand toward the sky, and at other times they would raise the hands the held together. It was some kind of ritualized movement that seemed important to the process.
I noticed them pray, so did others. I think that was the point. It was important to the ladies that they witness to the restaurant through prayer. It was like they were putting on a little pre-meal Christian stage show just of the restaurant audience. I watched them until they finished. A few other dinners did the same. When they finished, they looked around. One of the women made eye contact with me and said, "Jesus loves you."
I whispered back in a voice much too low to hear, "Vacuum".
A few minutes later I bit down on a piece of calamari and broke a tooth. I am sure the two items were unrelated.