talking to strangers

I was at the cash register, looking down and counting out the right amount, when the pharmacy cashier asked his question.
"Oh . .. are you . . ."  I glanced up, saw his eyes fastened on the Star of David necklace I was wearing, and smiled.
"No.  I'm not Jewish."

I'm used to the question from months of wearing the Star in an attempt to engage strangers in conversation about faith.  It's worked pretty well; no one asks about a cross, but a Star of David-- that's different, odd, provocative.  Most people won't ask past the preliminary ethnic/religious-background question.  If they do, I explain that I believe that Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of the promises of a Jewish Messiah, and therefore the Star is a very fitting symbol for me to wear.

This cashier asked more.

"Not Jewish?  What about Israel?  They're like my favorite country in the world."
"Well, I'm living in Israel for three months," I began.  His eyes lit up.
"I went on a missions trip to Israel," he informed me.  "I led a group of kids-- kids about your age."

I've had conversations like this before, where the other person is at least sympathetic toward if not entirely pro-Israel.  They're my favorite type.

"What will you be doing there?" he asked.  I explained, and he nodded, his eyes eager and happy.  "You'll love it," he said.  "The food is great, and the people . . . you have to come back and tell me about it.  I'll probably still be working here."  His last words had a hint of a sigh in them, but the glow in his eyes still didn't fade.

This was the first time I'd told a complete stranger about my trip.  It was a strange feeling.  It made this impending adventure feel . . . real.