Coincidence?

Last week was a marathon zone conference travel schedule. We left on the bus on Monday for a six-hour trip to Esmeraldas on the Pacific Coast. We stayed there until Wednesday afternoon when we traveled inland again by bus, this time without air conditioning, about three hours to Santo Domingo.

We hauled into our hotel, hot, sweater, tired and a little grumpy, only to find out that the owner said he did not have a reservation for us. Rather, he had one earlier in the day, but because nobody confirmed the reservation and he didn't have a telephone number for us and he didn't know who we were, he canceled the reservations at noon. I placed a desperation call to Ana Montalvo, our church travel lady, to see if she could round something up. But there were no rooms available when I had called the week before because it's tourist season. Sure enough, she was unable to find anything. The owner was only able to offer two rooms when we needed four. But by this time, his heart had softened and he was genuinely trying to help us out.

He suggested that we might want to stay at another of his properties, Victoria Suites Hotel. I asked him, "Is it clean and do they have hot water?" Oh, how my standards have diminished in Ecuador! "Please," he said, meaning "Of course." I told him that was not always the case in Ecuador. He offered to drive us there in his own car so we could look at it. Meanwhile I believe the other senior missionaries were praying really hard that we wouldn't have to sleep on the benches at the church.

When we pulled up in front of the hotel, I was resigned to accepting whatever was offered. We walked into the lobby and it wasn't bad. We met the lady owner and she took us upstairs to see the rooms. It was an elegant, European-style boutique hotel! Complete with breakfast, cable, internet and air conditioning! It was clean. They had hot water--well at least the first morning. I turned to one of the senior sisters and said, "Boy, when the Lord provides, he really provides."

As we continued on the tour, the owner told me that she had been baptized once into our church. I asked her if she was ready to come back. She then told a story that is too personal to retell in a blog. She concluded by saying that she had built her hotel to attract people with high moral standards. She said she felt blessed that she could have missionaries staying in her hotel for a couple of nights. I told her that on the contrary, she had rescued us, and we were greatly indebted to her for taking us in. We spent a lovely two days luxuriating in the best service I have yet come across in Ecuador.

When we were checking out, she once again told me that she had felt a mantle of peace over the hotel while we were there. I left hoping that her next contact with the church will put her on the road back to a more constant peace in her life.

Now I ask you, what are the chances that stranded missionaries would end up in her hotel in Santo Domingo Ecuador, and that I should have enough Spanish to understand her story? As I contemplated our interaction, it occurred to me that the Lord put us where he wanted us. I don't know the end of the story, and maybe never will. I'm just amazed at the variety of ways in which we can be instruments.