It was a little thing, really,
this offer to fill my tire.
I was unscrewing the valve cap
and heard a voice behind me.
‘Here, I’ll get that for you”
“Oh that’s ok, I’ve got it” is what I
normally say to such overtures,
this knee-jerk reaction to refuse.
I am the one who offers to help,
I am the one who serves.
Perhaps it was the eager spirit
on his face or his brown eyes
full of hopeful connection that
caused me to say ok.
I felt the vibration of
his unspoken benediction-
I can’t do much for you
fellow weary traveler,
but I can do this. Lay
your burden down and
I will carry it for a bit,
and I couldn’t help but wonder
how many times I have denied
someone the blessing of serving
because I have been too stubborn
to accept their gift.
As I was standing there in
the sun drenched gas station
parking lot, the hiss and tick of
the air pump sounded very much
like a psalm. I watched his hands,
a few shades lighter than that
Goodyear rubber, filling more than
just my tire with air, while goodness
and grace swirled around us
stronger than the fumes of gasoline.
