Sometimes witnessing doesn't take very much. A smile, a kind word, an expression of thankfulness to the Lord. After all, not all evangelism has to take place in long, drawn-out conversations or long-term relationships. Sometimes it's subtle.

The other day, I ran out to the grocery store to get a few items. As usual, I got more than I intended and ended up with a small basketful. Yet, it was a small load in comparison to the overflowing shopping carts of the women in front of me and in every line down the length of the store. After all, it was Friday night, and it was time to stock up.

A man pulled in behind me with a shopping cart as full as any other, piled high with potato chips, frozen entrees, soda pop, and crackers, with a bag of charcoal and some potatoes in the rack above the wheels, to boot. He scowled and flopped his arms on the handle of the shopping cart.

Usually, when people are looking irritable, I try to make light of a situation and get them to laugh. I looked over at the Express Lane, which was empty, then down at my basket, which I had let rest on the floor. “Think, if I keep counting the items in my basket, maybe they'll be less than 10?” I joked.

“Why?” he said. “This isn't the Express Lane.”

I could imagine the sound of Pac Man getting eaten by the fuzzy red monster. Peeeeeerrrrulp. Joke dead.

“No, but that one is,” I said, indicating one lane over.

He flicked a thumb in that direction. “Go on over there. She won't care.”

“No, no,” I protested. “I wouldn't do that. I was just joking.” I hate it when my jokes fall flat. At that moment, I hoped that the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

The lady in front of me picked up a magazine from the counter and started reading it. After a moment, she looked up at me and said, “Would you like to go ahead of me? You've only got a few things, and I've got a full cart. I don't mind. I'd like the time to read.”

At first, I declined, but she insisted. “It's okay, really,” she said. “I don't get to read at home.”

I looked at her cart, which was overflowing with what looked like meals for her husband and ten children for six weeks, so I thanked her for being so thoughtful. “See?” I said to the guy, with my sweetest smile. “God blessed me for being honest.”

He snorted. “Ya think?”

“Yes, I do.”

I smiled and gathered my things. I paid for my groceries, thanked the woman once again for her kindness, and went home. Not much of an evangelistic tale, is it? It's true. It wasn't much, but then, sometimes it doesn't have to be. And that's the point.

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