When I arrived in England in 2005 or 2006, a friend invited me to stay at his house while he was away. It was a welcome offer for someone who had just entered a new country. There was one complication: his house was near Bracknell and Newbold College, while my English school was in London, roughly an hour away.
At church, another Brazilian offered me a ride into London. He drove there almost every day. My classes finished before lunchtime, and he returned in the evening, but an afternoon exploring London sounded like a benefit. I accepted.
On the first morning, he explained that he did not yet know when he would finish work or where we could meet. He wrote his phone number in my notebook. I should call around five, and we would arrange the return journey.
I found my school with an address, a few directions, limited English, and my own two feet. After class, I stayed fairly close to the area. Then it was time to call.
Two digits in the wrong order
I found a public telephone and dialed. A recorded message told me to check the number. I checked it, tried again, and got the same response.
Perhaps I was dialing incorrectly. I approached people with my notebook, hoping someone would confirm that it looked like a local number. Most moved away. Maybe they thought I was selling something or asking for signatures. I do not know. Eventually, someone stopped and said the number looked normal.
The day was ending. I could not reach my ride, did not know where to meet him, and had no idea how to return to Bracknell. London suddenly seemed much less exciting.
At an Underground station, a staff member explained that I needed to reach a train station, Waterloo if I remember correctly, and told me which Underground train to take first. While she spoke, it sounded manageable. Then I looked at the map.
Colors, lines, intersections, station names everywhere. How did anyone understand it?
I asked a passing man for help. He stopped and listened. Then he walked with me, took me to the correct platform, and made sure I boarded the train.
When I looked out of the carriage window, he was still there. Only as the train started moving did he turn and walk away. I never learned his name. More than twenty years later, I still remember him on that platform.
At the next station, I asked again. Someone explained the next part. I followed the directions, arrived somewhere else, and asked again. I no longer remember the number of connections. I remember that people kept helping.
Eventually, I reached the railway station, bought a ticket, and boarded a train to Bracknell. From there, a taxi took me to the house.
The man who had driven me into London had been extremely worried. He had tried to find me and had no way to reach me. Then we discovered the problem: his phone was relatively new, and he had reversed its final two digits when writing the number.
I could have called all night. He would never have answered.
Enough light to move
What I wanted that evening was the whole route. Every line, station, and connection. What I received was enough information to reach the next point, followed by another instruction when I arrived.
Psalm 119:105 describes God’s Word as a lamp for our feet and a light for our path. That image reminds me of guidance close enough to act on. Sometimes I want a complete map when I already have enough light for one step.
Proverbs 3:5–6 invites us to trust God rather than depend entirely on our understanding. That evening, I had to admit something simple: I did not know the way. Asking for help was how I moved forward.
There is another part I do not want to lose. I did not get home alone. Ordinary people gave me their attention. One man gave more than directions: he walked beside me and waited until I was safely on my way.
Galatians 6:2 asks us to carry one another’s burdens. Sometimes that can look like stopping, listening, or walking someone to a platform. A few minutes of kindness can stay in another person’s memory for decades.
Perhaps today you need help with the next step. Perhaps someone near you does. We may not understand the whole map, but we can listen, ask for guidance, and walk a little way together.
That evening, I made it home one station at a time.
Scripture for reflection: Psalm 119:105; Proverbs 3:5–6; Galatians 6:2.