Getting there
Preface: Summer 1998
My first mission excursion was coming to a close. I had my group of guys together, ticketed, and just waiting to walk to our gate. It had been a long month in Guatemala and I was dealing with the mixed emotions of leaving new friends and returning to familiar surroundings. I was rounding the bend into the homestretch of my journey.
Then I noticed a gentleman walking around trying to sell his watch. He walked over to me. “Excuse me,” he said. Showing me his watch (and it was a nice watch) he then explained that he had miscalculated the cost of his ticket home to Italy and just needed a little under $20 American to clear the rest of his ticket and the airport tax. With no more money, he’d simply be stranded here if he didn’t make this flight.
I knew what I had in my wallet, and I knew that I was as good as back in the States. So, I took the bill from my pocket and handed it to him and told him to keep his watch. At first he seemed confused as to why I wouldn’t take the watch. It was, after all, a steal. Then he just shook his head and smiled. He shook my hand, and just before he made a beeline for the ticket counter, he said that it was a small world and that he hoped to bump into me again to return the favor. But even if that didn’t happen, he wished for someone to extend the same grace to me if I ever needed it.
Now we enter into my most recent journey.
It was about 1:00 am on December 12, 2004. I was writing in my journal as follows:
I’ve been traveling since the 9th. After flight delays, cancellations, mechanical failures, missed connections and re-routing, I finally landed at my destination… by myself. I didn’t have any destination info for where I would actually be staying while in Moldova –no phone number, no address, nothing. I had called in to let people know that I would be flying in via Rome instead of Amsterdam, but when I cleared customs I came to the realization that there was nobody to pick me up from the airport. I found myself… well, stranded.
Grace would soon show up. Well, actually it had already shown up and followed me from Rome.
While waiting for the flight into Chisinau, I met a Moldovan man traveling to see family. As we talked I learned that he had worked several years with the Peace Corps and was currently being sponsored in the States for his green card. Before we parted ways, he gave me some pointers for customs and a few words of wisdom for surviving in his country. “Don’t trust anyone,” he said.
Those words echoed in my head as I asked people where I could find a telephone. Nobody seemed to be able to recall where one might be here in this international airport. A young woman approached me saying that she was waiting for an American. She then started to ask me questions that she would have or should have known if she were truly there to take me to the rest of my group. I felt like such a sheep.
Then I spotted my new friend that I’d met at the terminal in Rome. Evidently he had decided to stick around to make sure that I’d be okay. He motioned for me to come over to where he was standing. We shared a cab to his sister’s house just outside the city. Not only did he offer me the use of a phone, but welcomed me to sit down and share a meal with his family (sister, mother, and three nieces). While there, I was able to connect with the right people and make my way back to the mission house where I would be staying for most of the trip. I am beyond grateful for his kindness and God’s provision.
Half of the group is still trying to make their way here. So, hopefully we’ll all be able to meet up tomorrow (and have a possible reunion with my luggage). So far this trip has not been lacking in logistical snafus. However I’m feeling that the trouble, to some extent, is just a manifestation of a spiritual battle.
To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m getting into… but I do want God to be glorified. I want to make Christ look great (supremely valuable).
My first mission excursion was coming to a close. I had my group of guys together, ticketed, and just waiting to walk to our gate. It had been a long month in Guatemala and I was dealing with the mixed emotions of leaving new friends and returning to familiar surroundings. I was rounding the bend into the homestretch of my journey.
Then I noticed a gentleman walking around trying to sell his watch. He walked over to me. “Excuse me,” he said. Showing me his watch (and it was a nice watch) he then explained that he had miscalculated the cost of his ticket home to Italy and just needed a little under $20 American to clear the rest of his ticket and the airport tax. With no more money, he’d simply be stranded here if he didn’t make this flight.
I knew what I had in my wallet, and I knew that I was as good as back in the States. So, I took the bill from my pocket and handed it to him and told him to keep his watch. At first he seemed confused as to why I wouldn’t take the watch. It was, after all, a steal. Then he just shook his head and smiled. He shook my hand, and just before he made a beeline for the ticket counter, he said that it was a small world and that he hoped to bump into me again to return the favor. But even if that didn’t happen, he wished for someone to extend the same grace to me if I ever needed it.
Now we enter into my most recent journey.
It was about 1:00 am on December 12, 2004. I was writing in my journal as follows:
I’ve been traveling since the 9th. After flight delays, cancellations, mechanical failures, missed connections and re-routing, I finally landed at my destination… by myself. I didn’t have any destination info for where I would actually be staying while in Moldova –no phone number, no address, nothing. I had called in to let people know that I would be flying in via Rome instead of Amsterdam, but when I cleared customs I came to the realization that there was nobody to pick me up from the airport. I found myself… well, stranded.
Grace would soon show up. Well, actually it had already shown up and followed me from Rome.
While waiting for the flight into Chisinau, I met a Moldovan man traveling to see family. As we talked I learned that he had worked several years with the Peace Corps and was currently being sponsored in the States for his green card. Before we parted ways, he gave me some pointers for customs and a few words of wisdom for surviving in his country. “Don’t trust anyone,” he said.
Those words echoed in my head as I asked people where I could find a telephone. Nobody seemed to be able to recall where one might be here in this international airport. A young woman approached me saying that she was waiting for an American. She then started to ask me questions that she would have or should have known if she were truly there to take me to the rest of my group. I felt like such a sheep.
Then I spotted my new friend that I’d met at the terminal in Rome. Evidently he had decided to stick around to make sure that I’d be okay. He motioned for me to come over to where he was standing. We shared a cab to his sister’s house just outside the city. Not only did he offer me the use of a phone, but welcomed me to sit down and share a meal with his family (sister, mother, and three nieces). While there, I was able to connect with the right people and make my way back to the mission house where I would be staying for most of the trip. I am beyond grateful for his kindness and God’s provision.
Half of the group is still trying to make their way here. So, hopefully we’ll all be able to meet up tomorrow (and have a possible reunion with my luggage). So far this trip has not been lacking in logistical snafus. However I’m feeling that the trouble, to some extent, is just a manifestation of a spiritual battle.
To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m getting into… but I do want God to be glorified. I want to make Christ look great (supremely valuable).
posted by Joel at 11:03 AM
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