A Living Savior
The twenty-something, pretty, dark-haired girl sweeping the floor at Subway easily smiled back at me when I first smiled at her. I asked, “Where are you from?”
She walked over to our table, then answered, “Morocco, but we moved here when I was little, so I went to school here.”
My next remark was, “So your family must be Muslim.”
“Yes,” she answered, “but I’m not a very good one.”
I responded, “Since you’ve lived here through junior high and high school, surely some Christian teen invited you to church with them.”