Gas Station Communion (Poem by Paula Gordon Lepp)

Gas Station Communion

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
in his face or his brown eyes
full of hopeful connection that
caused me to say okay.

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
filling more than just my tire with air,
while goodness and grace
swirled around us.

by Paula Gordon Lepp, from The Path of Kindness