I don’t like traveling alone. It’s—well—lonely.

Bruce had a couple of business trips he needed to do the same week, so I made all my reservations: plane, hotel, car for one.

I asked my friends to pray for me as I flew out to the northwest and looked for new digs.

God was gracious to me the entire trip. A clear, dry day, and a window seat afforded me a spectacular view from Denver to Seattle. No turbulence, either.

I hate turbulence.

The second leg of my flight was on a prop plane. That, too, gave me spectacular views.

After making a wide arc over the city of Bellingham, the little commuter touched down and parked about a hundred feet from the teeny, tiny airport. Once inside the terminal, the baggage claim and car rental company were just steps away.

The nice people at my motel had given me a nice suite on the far end of the building. Yay! I didn’t have to use earplugs to drown out the sound of rowdy, inebriated guests.I shared the salt-water indoor pool with a few other guests, and they were nice, too. And the front desk people were more than nice to help with faxing, directions, and finding my lost sunglasses.

For the next four days, I took care of banking, toured homes and selected the perfect house for Bruce and me.

My last day in Bellingham was all for celebration of accomplished goals. I took a drive east of town and ate lunch in the tiny town of Acme. If you’re ever in the area, I recommend the Acme Diner. Food’s great, service is friendly, and they play pop music from the 50s and 60s.

I also took the Chuckanut Drive (Hwy 11) which skirts the mountains above the Salish sea. Gorgeous! I passed a fish and oyster restaurant and vowed to return some time later this summer.

I walked along the pier at Old Fairhaven and watched the touring boats come in and out of the harbor.

Back at the little airport, the guy at the car rental company took my word for it that I hadn’t damaged the car,  and that I had indeed filled the tank.

The guy at the ticket counter for my airline showed up about half an hour before boarding. He seemed relaxed and jovial, even joked with me and some of the other customers.

Around the corner, an older man sat at the security counter, half asleep. When he saw me coming, he said, “We’re closed.” Another joke. We both laughed.

The two TSA ladies looked so happy when we showed up with our shoes, belts, purses, and laptops. It must be pretty boring at an airport that maybe has one flight per hour.

The plane that would take us back to Seattle was delayed, and we all worried that we’d miss our tight connections. But—never fear—the lovely lady at the gate called SeaTac and informed them.

When our plane arrived, the same guy that had checked in our bags also went outside and directed the plane into position. Then he greeted the travelers and helped direct them. Just the way the man smiled and laughed with everyone made me feel that everything would be okay.

A sweet old lady sat next to me on the plane. She told me she didn’t know what she’d do if she missed her connecting flight to Montana. I listened with sympathy, then prayed for her.

When we arrived at Seattle, there were people on the tarmac waiting to escort her to her connecting gate.

During this entire trip I saw and felt God’s hands, guiding, protecting, providing. I believe He protected me while I drove a strange car in a strange city. I believe He provided just the right house for us, and directed all the financial decisions. I know that He filled my anxious heart with encouragement and peace.

Thank You, Lord!