The sun peeked through the worn lace curtains in the corner diner as I dreamingly sipped my first cup of coffee. Rosie swiftly maneuvered from booth to booth bantering with the regulars and generously pouring rounds of her eye-opening coffee and chicory. As a single mom, she took pride in her business establishment of 25 years, working six days a week to provide for her three girls.
“A little more coffee sweetie?” she asked, eyeing my empty cup.
“Sure thing, Rosie. In fact I’m gonna splurge today and order some beignets with extra powdered sugar too.”
“That’s my girl! Comin’ right up,” she said snapping her gum as she jotted down my order.
Disengaged from the diner’s chit-chat, I became aware of a burning sensation in the center of both of my palms. I glanced down at my hands and witnessed the area of pain immediately fade to white in the shape of a quarter. I scanned the collage of faces in the diner, but I was unable to decipher who was in need. So I did what I had been divinely instructed to do many times before - simply pray.
A scream echoed from the kitchen and immediately silenced the diner’s chatter.
In less than a minute, a busboy rushed out screaming, “Call 911!”
One of the burly, oversized truck drivers stood up and yelled, “I’m on it,” as he pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.
“What happened?” several of us asked the busboy in unison.
“Rosie and the cook collided and a pan of hot grease spilled and scalded the front of her legs,” he frantically replied.
“Hey ya’ll! Move one of those tables! We’re bringin’ Rosie out there,” yelled a distressed voice from the kitchen.
The customers quickly moved out a table from around one of the booths while the kitchen staff slowly carried Rosie out to the dining area. During the transport from the greased kitchen floor to the booth, Rosie screamed hysterically as her pain intensified. Everyone scurried around creating pillows and blankets out of tablecloths, attempting to make her comfortable.
Once again, the palms of both of my hands burned and turned white, prompting me to approach Rosie’s booth.
“Owwwwwwww! I can’t take this pain! That burn spray ain’t working!” Rosie yelled.
Rosie’s legs were streaked with scarlet stripes from her knees down to her ankles. Just a quick glance brought tears to my eyes.
“The ambulance is on its way,” I said gently petting her salt and pepper hair.
“Rosie, would you mind if I laid my hands on your head and prayed for you?” I asked.
“I’m an atheist, and don’t believe in all that. But I’m in so much pain right now girlfriend; you knock ya lights out,” she retorted in between screams.
I centered my burning white palms on the top of Rosie’s head and just prayed silently for God’s healing power to intervene with pain relief until the ambulance arrived. Over the course of the next five minutes, her screams had noticeably weaned to idle chit-chat, while I prayed continuously with my hands in position. The sensation ceased once the EMT’s bolted through the door of the diner.
“How are you doing ma’am? It looks like you got a pretty nasty burn on those legs,” the gloved EMT noted gently examining her legs.
“We’re going to apply some of this here paste on it to give you some relief, ok?”
“Ok, but I’m better thanks to this sweetheart right here,” Rosie responded pointing over her left shoulder. “I’m not sure what she did, but my pain is almost gone.”
All inquiring eyes turned to me as I spoke, “I simply prayed and God helped. God gets all the credit here for helping Rosie, not me.”
“Your God really helped me? Why? I don’t even believe in Him,” Rosie asked innocently.
”Because He loves you Rosie. He wants to have a relationship with you.”
“Sweetie, please come visit me in the hospital. I wanna talk some more about all this,” she said squeezing my hand on her way out of the diner.
“You got it, Rosie. I’ll be there,” I said smiling.
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