A few weeks ago, a friend told me how she'd been working on the art of small talk—the little superficial questions which seemed so silly to her, but which were greeted with genuine relish, so much so that she had decided this was definitely an act of charity. I felt inspired, reflected sadly on how little I'd been sowing seeds of God's love among my acquaintances, and resolved to work harder in the future. (I ought to be an expert from the number of times I've made this resolution.)
I had lots of opportunities for mingling with strangers in the next few weeks, because the residents were in a play at a local theater. One night, a cast member sat down next to me as the chorus started rehearsing a scene. She pointed to my sandals in a friendly way and said, "I have the same shoes!"
"Yeah, isn't Payless great?" with a big, amiable smile. (I had actually noticed that she had the same shoes at a previous rehearsal, but sometimes people are freaked out if you've noticed too much, so I suppressed the information.)
"Why no," startled and a bit offended, "mine* are Anne Klein!"
"Huh." I said, reflecting that if the lady were correct about the shoes' origin (which she wasn't), they wouldn't be anywhere near as cool.
Silence descended, with me feeling pleased that I had kept from expressing myself, but with the lady apparently experiencing less enjoyable emotions.
"Or maybe," she said with a nervous titter, "maybe they weren't."
We had to continue sitting next to each other until she was called on stage, so I had time to reflect that this probably didn't count as having shown God's love to her.
* I try to avoid italics, but my interlocutor unmistakably italicized this word.
