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My Savior In the Form of a Bus

"Do you believe in Jesus Christ our Lord?"
An old, balding man was in my face.
He wasn't someone who could be ignored.

I thought he'd go away if I looked bored.
I rolled my eyes and yawned. He kept his place.
"Do you believe in Jesus Christ our Lord?"

"I'm Jewish, give it up," I moved toward
the street, but then my heel caught on some ice.
I fell. "You see, He mustn't be ignored."

This guy, I thought, is someone for the ward.
But I was at his feet. "It must be grace,"
he said, held out his hand. "You know the Lord

can work in wondrous ways." He'd struck a chord:
my days in Catholic school, a veil of lace,
these words a priest once said, that I'd ignored:

"He'll come to you, carrying a sword.
And Beth, how will you meet him face to face?"
My bus pulled up just then, thank the Lord,
rescuing me from questions I'd ignored.

--Beth Gylys


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