We grudgingly stepped off the train, dragging our stuffed bags behind us, and walked to the nearest bus stop since we were no longer in a huge rush to be at the airport by 5pm for check-in. We waited fifteen minutes, twelve of those amounting to how late our bus was to pick us up. At this moment, since none of us were talking to each other, I made out a whisper next to me. A young man, probably a few years older than me was trying to tell me something, but I did not quite understand his accent. I asked him to repeat himself and he told us all that the bus driver told him to tell us that we had to walk to another bus stop because the bus we were expecting was stuck in traffic due to an accident. He said he was busing to Heathrow too and was trying to return to his home in Moscow. He ended up waiting with us for the next bus, helping us with our bags at every stop. He was unbelievably kind and chatty. Definitely an earthly Angel sent to help us and give us a message.
So of course, at the end of the day we realised that the plane had been delayed so that we could make the flight at all, and the young, Russian man had been sent to guide us to the correct bus stop. Obviously this can all be taken as luck, coincidence, or even as nothing at all, especially not a gift from God...but then if it was that easy to decipher why certain things happen, there would be no such thing as faith would there?
What I will miss the most about this trip will be the grass growing on the roofs of most Baltic homes; the decadent food on the cruise; feeding all the furry and feathery creatures at various stops; the vicious and merciless cyclists on the roads; and even though I found it tough at times, seeing God in every situation...bad, good or absolutely hopeless. But, all in all, it is good to be home.
Our cats think so too.