My wife Randa recently had arthroscopic surgery to trim out a couple of torn spots on the meniscus of her right knee. A week ago, she began the benevolent affliction of physical therapy. Having benefitted from the same process for the same reason myself several years ago, I’ve been quite supportive and encouraging. Well, at least by my standards…

After dropping Randa off at the therapy center last week, I left to take care of the grocery shopping. Being somewhat familiar with the grocery store layout and minimizing my loitering in tools and hardware, I made it back a few minutes before her session ended. I walked in and sat down near the door. The waiting area at the location offers a clear view into the gym or therapy area. While Randa was finishing up her current torture stint, I noticed another woman getting ready to leave.

She picked up her purse and her jacket, then appeared to say goodbye to a couple of staff members. I’d guess the woman’s age in the area of mid-to-late-fifties. A twenty-something female therapist walked with her several steps toward the waiting area. They stopped about seventy-five feet away from me and the older woman hung her purse over one shoulder. They joined hands and bowed their heads. In turn, I saw each of them moving her lips, as if praying.

They finished and then hugged each other. Both began walking toward me. When they were about twenty feet away, the younger therapist walked slightly to my right and entered the office. The therapy patient walked straight toward me and stopped just a few feet away at the patient access glass.

She leaned in slightly toward the opening and spoke to the other woman, “Thank you so much for praying. That really helps me.” She nodded in appreciation of the “You’re welcome,” and then headed on past me and out the door.

I smiled slightly in my reflections on what I had just witnessed. In the absence of any laws or regulations prohibiting or prescribing any sort of spiritual or religious practice, two people had just joined each other in supplication of their perceived Higher Power. No threats, no theatrics, no concern for making political statements.

Over the past few decades, Randa and I have made it a normal practice to quietly offer thanks for our food when we dine out. Same on most occasions when I’m out with friends and family who are also believers. Not one time has anyone else around us made any comment one way or another.

Which is precisely how it should be, I think, in a country where people claim to value freedom of religion.