Compassionate Call Center

When traveling home for permanent return from mission service in Africa, my nine-year-old son, Kent, and I flew into Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris —but somehow, our luggage was shipped to Orly Airport on the other side of that vast city. My husband, who spoke fluent French, had come to Paris a week earlier for a choral conducting workshop. Our plan was for the three of us to rendezvous at a downtown hotel for two days and then continue home to the United States of America.

One two-hour bus ride later, we reunited with our luggage at Orly. The luggage attendant gave us free train passes to the downtown station nearest our hotel. As we pulled away from the airport, a dour conductor passed through the crowded coach checking tickets and train passes. “These are yesterday’s passes!” he snapped at me.

“What are you trying to do here —get a free ride? Free passes are just for those who have flown in on that day!” He ignored my weak “But we just did!” in French and moved on with his work, shouting an “I’ll be back!” at us.

O God, I silently prayed, what do we do now? Suddenly, I remembered our airline ticket stubs with today’s arrival date.

The returning conductor snatched them from my hand, took one look, and threw them back into my lap. Thank you, God! I sighed.

At the station, we dragged our heavy luggage onto the sunbaked platform. God, we’re hungry and thirsty and lost. Now what? “Say, that train conductor back there was pretty rough on you two,” said a kind voice in perfect English just behind us. I turned to see two clean-cut young men smiling at us.

“We saw the whole thing. If you need a taxi, it’s a one-block walk. Since your hands are pretty full, may we carry those two biggest suitcases for you?” Thirty hours without sleep, Kent and I tightly held hands and wordlessly trudged behind them. “There you go.” The men set down our bags before hailing a cab for us.

And that is the last memory I have of seeing them.

Within minutes, a jovial cabbie had driven Kent and me to our hotel, where we reunited with my very relieved husband.

I’ve always wondered whether those young men were compassionate angels sent to a weary, overwhelmed missionary mom by a compassionate God who hears and answers prayer. Are you feeling weary today? Overwhelmed? All of heaven is just waiting to receive your call!

Carolyn Rathbun Sutton.