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Mysterious Ways: Lost In Cairo

I've loved to travel since a mission trip to Argentina, but it was on a journey to Egypt where I truly witnessed God's love.

The skyline of Cairo

The sun was beginning to set over Cairo. The once bustling streets were clear of tourists, and the shops selling colorful pashminas, staid black burquas, pungent Middle Eastern spices and gleaming hookah pipes were shuttered. The Muslim call to prayer echoed throughout the city.

For hours, I’d marveled at the treasures of the pharaohs on display at the Egyptian Museum and then wandered, taking in the exotic sights, smells and sounds. But now I was worried. I needed to find the bus back to my hotel…and I was hopelessly lost.

I love to travel. I was first bitten by the travel bug 65 years earlier, when I joined my church for a two-and-a-half year mission trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina. I’d learned the language, embraced the culture and the people.

Not long ago, Western Electric offered me a position in Saudi Arabia, and I jumped at the chance. What a unique opportunity to see more of the world!

Now I was enjoying a two-week vacation in Egypt. The museum, the pyramids—they’d long ranked high on my bucket list of places to visit. I’d loved every minute.

Until now. My bus stop was at the museum, but I didn’t know which way that was. Nothing looked familiar. And the last bus was scheduled to leave soon. I approached a few strangers, but they didn’t understand—they only spoke Arabic.

A chill passed through me. What am I going to do? I wondered. How am I going get back to my hotel?

From up the street, a lone couple approached. I could tell from their appearance that they weren’t American. “Excuse me, do you speak English?” I asked them. “Where is the museum?” The couple just looked confused. They had no idea what I was saying. Lord, I need some help here, I prayed.

As the couple started to walk away, they began talking. It wasn’t Arabic. They had an unmistakable accent, using words I recognized from a long, long time ago…

I hustled after them. “Buenos Aires?” I asked. The couple smiled.

“Si,” the man said. Yes.

 It had been decades, but I remembered a bit of the language. “Por favor! Donde esta el museo?” I asked.

They pointed the way. I just made the last bus back to my hotel. During the rest of my stay, I heard many languages spoken—Arabic, German, French—but I never heard another word of Spanish.

Download your FREE ebook, Mysterious Ways: 9 Inspiring Stories that Show Evidence of God's Love and God's Grace.

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True Stories of Transformation from Near-Death Experiences

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