Val Evanđelja

There are days that are happy and sunny. Days filled with love and serenity . . . days when everything is, as we say in Croatia, rosy. On the other hand, there are days when nothing goes as we'd like. Well, it was one of those days for me.

I was supposed to pick up my wife, Andrea, in a city in northern Italy called Trento (or Trent in English). (Remember the Council of Trent of the 16th century?) With this in mind I embarked on a long trip from Croatia to Trent, a distance of roughly 700 kilometers. The beginning of the trip went as planned. I passed comfortably through Slovenia—beautiful landscapes, good roads, almost no traffic on the highways.

When I got to Venice, while driving my usual 170 km per hour, I suddenly saw a flashing neon sign screaming at me in Italian: CODA! CODA! CODA! I didn't have a clue what this meant, so I proceeded as usual. But after a kilometer or so, cars in front of me began slowing down rapidly. I jammed on the brake with all my might, hoping and praying that the wheels wouldn't lock. My car stopped just a few centimeters from the car in front of me. The driver was gesturing and opening his mouth very fast in my direction. Glad that I couldn't hear him, I was by now wide awake and breathing heavily. I had thought for sure I was going to die! I thanked the Lord for keeping me in one piece.

After an hour or so in the traffic jam and a few shorter stoppages and wrong turns, I finally got to Trent. What a relief . . . I made it! I had a map of the city that my wife had faxed me, but it showed only the part where I was supposed to meet her. It said: “When you enter the city from the north...” Well, I had entered Trent from the south. That was a bit of a problem, but how hard can it be? A small Italian town? Piece of cake.

Two hours later, I was still trying to find my way. It had gotten dark and I was starting to panic. How in the world am I going to find her? Then a thought flashed into my mind. Use your cellphone! I pulled over and grabbed my mobile. I froze. There was no signal. My head fell heavily to my chest, my arms lay lifelessly next to my body. I felt alone and lost.

Then a gentle voice, deep inside, said to me: Isn't it time to talk to me, son? I lifted my head and prayed: “Oh, God, please help me, I am lost. Help me to find my way to my wife ... forgive me that I didn't think of you sooner.” Nothing happened, so I proceeded to drive. After five more minutes, feeling desperate, I stopped in the middle of intersection by a policeman who was directing traffic, rolled down my window, and asked for directions. He looked at me as though I was from another planet and told me I was on the street I was looking for. I asked if he knew where the hotel was that I needed to find. It was fifty meters away.

I looked up, smiled, and said: “Thank you, God, thank you!” The next thing I saw was the worried face of my wife trying to call me on her cellphone. I don't know if it is true for you, but too often I rely on myself, not wanting to bother God with the small things of life—like trying to find a street in a small town. But, through experiences like this one, God teaches us to rely on him in small things aswell as in the big things. Dear friend, may God grant us the wisdom to rely on Him all the time.