pointed papers

Thursday.

Second day ever of passing out tracts. Foleshill, Coventry area. Large immigrant population.

The tracts slipped out of my hands like water, the obliging passersby gladly taking the small slips of paper with their pointed message: Jesus loves you. It all seemed very simple, and I prayed that the message found its way into the hearts of these many strangers.

All of a sudden a motion across the street caught my eye. A bus driver waiting for the traffic to continue was tapping on his window and looking in my direction. Surprised I looked at my teammate as if to ask "are we in trouble" and then all around to see if he was motioning to someone else. Looking back at the driver I tapped my chest and he nodded.

I ran into the traffic as he opened his window. "I'd like one. It will give me something to read at stops."

I smiled and handed him the paper and ran back across the street, careful to avoid drivers who, in this country, do not give pedestrians the right-of-way. As I ran he read the title and I heard him exclaim, "Aw!"

The title? "You're special."