Yoruba at Post Office. Tue, Jun 14, 2011.

06/14/2011. 1284. I had pulled into the Post Office parking lot behind a taxi. Most taxi drivers in Indianapolis are from Africa. Just as I was crossing the parking lot to go inside, he got out of his taxi and headed towards the front door too, and we ended up walking side by side. I asked what country he was from, and he said Nigeria. I asked if he was Igbo or Yoruba, and he said Yoruba. I asked if he wanted a free book in Yoruba from my church, and he said yes. I offered to give him one there, and asked if he had a moment, and he said okay. He followed me back to my car, and I got a Yoruba Book of Mormon out of the trunk and presented it to him.

Instead of offering him an English copy (I'm running low), I invited him to call one of the numbers on the flyer (the local mission office number or one of the church's 800 numbers) to get a free English version.

He asked where the church was, so I pointed out the list of chapels on the flyer, and circled the two closest ones.

I also offered him an English paperback Bible which he accepted.

It was pure serendipity, meeting him like that, but it was perfectly timed down to the second.