This is Me Never Doubting Again

(reading time: 5 minutes)


The questions, the bad omens, the wrong assumptions-- even the cold, snowy weather-- penetrated my thick coat. I had thoughts dark as the night. It wasn't the homelessness that I was afraid of. It was the freezing to death part that bothered me. I hadn't completely given up my search for a warm place-- but neither would I shy away from the possible challenge Christ could provide me in being homeless. "Fine, I'll be homeless. But, I won't like it. And I'm going to search until I'm too tired to search."

Around a corner Steve and I went. There, with lights on and people inside, a Gelatteria-- a bar/ice cream shop (the best of both worlds). Craving warmth, we climb into the small store. Immediately, the smell of warm chocolate wafts into our noses. I can almost taste the green mint. And coffee too! And pastries!

(If we're going to be homeless, it's not going to be for another two hours-- and I'm packing some food!)

Steve and I wipe our mouths and the wet snow from our cold coats. We're melting all over the place. The owner of the place, a younger Italian woman whom Steve found easy on the eyes, was a smart one. Sensing that we were lost (and stupid Americans), she began to offer some help in Italian. But, we're English.

Let the half-hour game of Shirades begin!

We tell her our story, how we need a place to stay, how we have a place but just don't know where it is at, and all of that.... ending in what should have been complete confusion. But, beautiful Italian girl know: "I call hotel for you."

She calls a random hotel-- some hotel that she thinks might have an open room.... They tell her that they will check and will call her back in 5 minutes.

5 minutes in Italian time equals 20 minutes American time. (no wonder the ruins of Rome are still intact).

They call back and have one room left. After feeling like Mary and Joseph looking for an inn to stay, Steve and I head for the hotel.

Now, that should be the end of the story. Steve and I should have bought the room, warmed up, and called it a night. But Steve's gonna think about it: "I really think I can find those Franciscan students. You can buy the room if you want. I'm going to go back outside and search for them."

As Steve leaves the lobby of the hotel, everything grows silent. I'm there in the lobby, pondering what to do when, suddenly: voices! I hear voices! I hear English-speaking voices! I hear a large group of English-speaking voices having a good time!

"STEVE!!! WE NEED TO EXPLORE THIS HOTEL!!!!"

We go downstairs and (YOU KNEW THE ENTIRE TIME!!!) there are the Franciscan students. Actually, though, there's only half of them there. The other half are elsewhere-- including the people we were supposed to stay with. But, A-HA! The co-ordinators of this trip are here, and they have the hotel name of where our guys are! "Quick, go up there, as they'll probably be finishing dinner shortly."

We book it to the hotel up the street, bust into the restaurant, and find out guys, wiping their mouths with their napkins, having just finished dinner. Five minutes later, and we woud have missed them.

We follow them out the restaurant door, go up a street or two, unlock our hotel room, and crash-- in glorious warmth-- on our beds.


So, let's recap that for a moment:
I went on a train alone to a place I didn't know.
To a city where I didn't have a place to stay.
And took a bus which dropped us off in an unknown spot.
Which led us to forty years in the desert.
But we found a random store.
In fact, the only store open.
Who had a generous owner
Who called a random inn
Which had one remaining room
Which happened to be exactly where the Franciscans were
Which also happened to be where the coordinators were
Who happened to have a list where everyone was staying
Who we found just in time to make it up to the restaurant
where our group was getting ready to leave at that precise moment.

Coincidences? I think not.


I shall never doubt again.