It started like any ordinary Tuesday.
My 8-year-old son, Ben, and I were walking home from the store—me juggling grocery bags, him chatting nonstop about dinosaurs and superheroes. As we passed a police officer standing on the corner, Ben tugged at my sleeve.
“Can I say something to him?” he asked.
I nodded, expecting a typical kid question about sirens or badges. But instead, Ben walked right up to the officer and said, “Excuse me, sir… can I pray for you?”
The officer looked taken aback, but then something incredible happened—he knelt down to Ben’s level. Without hesitation, Ben placed a small hand on his shoulder and whispered,
“I pray you stay safe, don’t have to hurt anyone… and remember you’re a good person.”
My heart caught in my throat. I hadn’t realized just how much Ben had absorbed from a recent news story—one I thought I’d shielded him from.
Later, I asked him why he did it. He looked up and said simply,
“I thought maybe he needed someone to care. People forget police officers can be scared too.”
A few days later, we were back at the store when someone gently tapped my shoulder. It was the same officer, out of uniform this time. He thanked Ben again, his voice softer. He told us he’d just come from a difficult call and that Ben’s words had stayed with him—offering strength in a moment he really needed it.
When our neighborhood held its annual block party, families filled the street. Music played, kids ran wild with popsicles, and for a few hours, everything felt light. I was sitting alone when I spotted the officer again—this time in plain clothes, carrying a homemade dish.
He smiled and walked over—not as a cop, but as a friend.
Ben’s simple act of kindness had sparked something profound: connection, healing, and a moment that none of us will ever forget.