Slowly but surely during my childhood years, I acquired a deep admiration for Europe and everything European  – lifestyle, food and gardening combined with all the gorgeous fabrics and furniture, coffee in cozy cafés, tea in dainty cups and teapots with tea cozies insulating the brew to stretch the ritual of a culture that celebrated creativity and excellence – evidence of an ethos that encourages people to live their full capacity and potential.  I wanted to know more, live more in it and foster a growing scope of experiences for which money and time would be sacrificed.

I write from the living room of an apartment in the heart of Rome, Italy.  From my window I can see terrace and rooftop gardens with olive trees in terracotta pots, tumbling bougainvillea in many colours in between the fragrance of flowering honeysuckle climbing up the gutters from the street below.  The walls are painted light pink, brown pink, mustard yellow, ochre, reddish light brown and brownish light red and all the contrasting hues of the sun and ruins of an ancient city in Italy.  The paint splinters and the plaster cracks.  It seems in order amongst surprising precision of tromp l’oeil around the window frames for a sculptured effect on the edifice.  I am in awe of the old city, groaning under the feet of hungry tourists who crush the confines and restrictions of the pandemic – with passion and determination.

It is hot.  The sun shines with dazzling brightness.  The streets are dirty and only here and there one can see the efforts of cleaning up after a garbage removal strike only a week ago.

I have the privilege to spend time here with my whole family – three sons, two daughters-in-law and two grandchildren.  It is a dream-holiday.  Everyone goes about their own business and then get together again for a meal and a long chat.  The young married couple travels – north to Sienna, Florence and Pisa by train and south to the Amalfi coast by boat.  We explore the city – again.

Our relationship with Rome started almost forty years ago. 

As part of post-graduate studies I spent time in the Netherlands in the winter of 1984/5.  In the middle of our time there, my husband and I embarked on a European trip mostly by train.  My first white Christmas in Zurich, Switzerland, New Year in Lugano in the Italian canton of Switzerland where we enjoyed the cleanness and precision of Swiss culture combined with the flair and food of the Italians.

Then on to Rome for an appointment regarding to my husband’s post-graduate studies.  The first part of the winter was not particularly cold but as we progressed into January the temperature dropped.  Rome was unexpectedly cold.  We walked and took the bus to a few sights, sat in cozy restaurants and walked through somewhat forlorn piazzas.  The second day in Rome it snowed – for the first time in thirty years.  We had experienced the effective handling of snow in Switzerland and the north of Europe.  Snow was part of winter and everything was geared and ready for it.  Life and work continued uninterrupted.

Not so in Rome.

The intersections of the streets looked like muddy rivers in flood times.  We checked out of our hotel for our scheduled train departure and walked slowly to the station, leaning on our luggage not to slip and fall on the ice.  The train station was in chaos.  We found out that our train was definitely not leaving with no hope of a new reservation.  The trains stop running because the switches were frozen.  In the north of Europe the switches are heated.

We went back to the hotel and checked in for one night.  The next morning, after checking out again, I sat in the lobby with or luggage so that my husband could go and see what was happening at the station.  He stayed away for a long time.  The queue (line-up) at the customer service office was a muddled crowd of frustrated passengers thronging and elbowing forward towards a controlled door where one at a time could enter.  It was a hopeless mess with hopeless answers in broken English.

We checked back into the hotel.  The concierge was a friendly, elderly gentleman with limited English who answered every question with a series of si, si, si, si – yes, yes, yes, yes.  We were really worried.  There was no way out.  The airport was closed and the trains still.

We walked through Rome again.  At the spectacular Trevi-fountain, where one is supposed to toss a coin over one’s shoulder to return to Rome, my husband stood with his thumb down in annoyance.

That evening we prayed together.  The trip so far was wonderful and we gave thanks for all the marvellous experiences that we were so privileged to have.  When we heard the fireworks in Lugano the week before over New Year in our hotel, we stayed in our room and prayed into 1985.  It was our first New Year as a married couple.  It was an obvious decision to pray into the New Year since we were both brought up in a tradition of spending New Year’s eve with family and then on to a midnight service in church to celebrate the New Year.

In our room in Rome we asked God for a solution to a seemingly impossible situation.  The next day we checked out again.  I waited in the lobby.  My husband walked out with a sense of inner joy and came back an hour or two later.  He managed to secure two tickets in a sleeper cabin for that evening.  It seemed that there was hope that the trains would start again during the afternoon.

That evening we boarded the train for a 24-hour trip to Cologne, Germany where my husband’s next appointment was.  In our cabin was a friendly Italian family.  We had our food and water packed as we anticipated a very full train and did not trust the dinner coach or snack trolley. 

The train was packed.  People slept in the aisles.  At one stage I decided to stop drinking as it was next to impossible to make it to a toilet.  Our fellow-passengers helped us to make the beds and we slept to the satisfying sound of a moving train away from Rome.  In the night I peeped out of the window to see a Swiss station and a constant fall of snow.  The moon was shining like a floodlight in the night – a fairy tale scene.

Our trip out of Rome became “code” for answered prayer.  It was our private way of saying God made a way where there seems to be no way.

The appointment in Rome that January initiated an invitation for my husband to attend a conference of the UN in …Rome.  In April 1987 we spent two weeks in Rome.  I could explore the city in better weather, while he worked.  We rented a car over the weekend, drove to the Amalfi coast and stayed in Positano for two nights.

We walked by the Trevi fountain again – with big smiles but still no coins over the shoulder.

In 2015 our eldest son married an Italian girl in our house in a civil ceremony as is the custom in Europe.  She dreamed of a church wedding in Rome.  She finished her studies and started work in Washington DC.  In June 2016 our whole family descended on Rome for a wedding in a spectacular church in the heart of the old city – St Ignatius de Loyola – the founder of the Jesuits.  We enjoyed champagne and antipasti at the only  ristorante on the small square in front of the church.  All the guests walked through the streets of Rome to the hotel where the reception was held.  The route took us past the Trevi fountain where everybody stopped for photos.

A day of feasting in the Eternal City, as Rome is fondly called.  A true “Rome-day” for us – an exceedingly great blessing and favour from God to be able to enjoy such a special occasion.

Seven years later, 2023, our daughter-in-law announced a sabbatical  which she would like to spend in Rome for research and then on to a holiday in the south where she is from and her parents live.  It was an opportunity to organize a holiday that we have been dreaming about for over twenty years.  

We gave it a lot of thought, prayed about it, planned and then booked.  The tickets were affordable with a bonus added – a non-stop ten-hour flight from our home in Canada.

The time drew closer.

The weeks leading up to the trip was busier than usual.  Pentecost is an important feast on our Christian calendar and I wanted to make the most of it in my Biblestudy groups on Zoom and in person – it is  the celebration of Holy Spirit power in our lives.

The week before the departure date the airline’s pilots announced a strike for the weekend of our scheduled flight.  They threatened to cancel all flights.  I was so busy that I ignored the news.  Our flight was scheduled on the Monday of a long weekend.  

The Tuesday before the flight, I prepared for a session where I would be the guest speaker of another group of women, other than my regular groups.  As it was election time in our province, I was looking for the verse in Acts 23 where Paul warns not to insult your leaders.  The emphasis of the study on which I was speaking was on the Kingdom of God – a call to higher living.  When one is too involved in the frustration of politics we lose our heavenly perspective of enlightened eyes to truly see the world in the liberty of the promises of the Word of God, which is the content of our future.  We have to be responsible citizens, praying for our leaders.  Please read verse 5.

With an open Bible my eye fell on verse 11.

But the following night the Lord stood by him [Paul] and said:  Be of good cheer, Paul, for you have testified for Me in Jerusalem, so you must also bear witness at Rome.

I was thrilled to read about Rome in the Bible and immediately  felt compelled to read the verse again.  I prayed with a strong conviction that there was “work” for the Lord in Rome.  Maybe it was not just for my own pleasure and a holiday as I had planned.  I wanted to do God’s work – always and everywhere.

After the Biblestudy-session the women spoke about the strike and said they hoped that I am not flying with this particular airline.  I said, unfortunately, it is exactly the airline with which we are booked.  I saw a message from my husband to phone him when I would get a chance.  Over the phone he said that the strike is announced for the weekend and that the money for the apartment in Rome will become non-refundable the next day at midnight.  We still have a chance to cancel for a full refund.

I told him about the Scripture I received that morning early and jokingly said, I am going to Rome and you can come with me.  He didn’t miss a beat.  He immediately said that the Word that I received is enough and he is not going to cancel the apartment. 

In the car on the way to the birthday lunch with the ladies from the Biblestudy a very good friend and I discussed the situation.  She immediately encouraged me to stand firm in faith.  The next day the money for the apartment was paid in full.

As usual when I “receive” a verse of encouragement, I read the whole chapter.  Acts 23 tells of a conspiracy against Paul of 40 Jews that swore not to eat or drink until they had killed Paul.  Paul’s nephew warned the Roman commander about the conspiracy.  As Paul was a Roman citizen he was protected under Roman law.  So it happens that Paul is taken to Caesarea in the night under the protection of a small army (400 soldiers and 70 cavalry)!  Paul himself received a horse to ride on.

The strike felt like a conspiracy against me.  I asked God for protection against loss.

Two days later the airline cancelled 111 flights.  My friend phoned and encouraged me from Scripture – Hebrews 11:1 – for her symbolic of three ones in a row.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Her faith and encouragement were powerful.  We stood firm and waited in our minds while we packed for the Monday’s departure.  The next day the airline announced a deal with the pilots and the strike was called off.

Our flight was on time.  We landed a few minutes early in Rome.  The sun rose like a fiery ball over Greenland in the early morning of our night flight – spectacular.

Here I am in Rome again – on the wings of a testimony.  Every day is a “Rome-day”.