It was a normal Tuesday—nothing out of the ordinary. I was carrying grocery bags, and my 8-year-old son, Ben, was happily chatting about cartoons, school, and snacks as we walked.
As we passed a police officer by his car, Ben tugged my sleeve and asked, “Mama, can I ask him something?”
I thought he just wanted to see the badge or lights and said, “Sure, baby.”
But then Ben surprised me.
He approached the officer and softly said, “Excuse me, sir… can I pray for you?”
The officer looked surprised, glanced at me for permission, and I nodded, moved beyond words.
The officer knelt down to Ben’s level. Ben placed his hand on the officer’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and quietly prayed for his safety, hoping he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone and that he’d remember he’s a good person when he got home.
I was speechless—Ben had clearly noticed more than I realized.
The officer stood up with tears in his eyes, grateful. “Thank you,” he said, voice trembling. “You don’t know how much that means.”
As we continued home, Ben asked something that broke my heart even more…
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