said. . . . “Go put this back where you found it, please,” said my father, and then turned his back and walked back to the car. “Good Lord, John . . . What on earth was wrong with that young man?” “I think he was on drugs, June,” answered my dad. “I don’t even think he knew where he was . . . Let’s pray for him.” And so my mother and father got out of the car and walked over to the man . . . I saw my father bend down on one knee, and then my mother with him. As they prayed, the man closed his eyes and began to cry.[3]
