The odds...

The first two legs of my flight revealed a lot about how strange chance can be. Upon meeting my two seatmates on the flight from New Orleans I was surprised to find that one was a pharmacist and the other was a physician assistant, and both were small business owners. We talked for the entire flight, and it was a nice reminder of how exciting my work in Moldova will be. I say "reminder" because as I stepped through the gates at the airport I had a real sense of leaving my family, friends and country behind, which can be very difficult to emotionally justify.

On the next flight (from Charlotte to Frankfurt, Germany) I had two seatmates who were speaking a foreign language, and by their use of "niet" I figured it was Russian. I decided it was worth asking, since I was heading to a former Soviet state. "Where are you from?" I asked. The young man replied "Moldova," in a tone that inflected his desire of not wanting to explain his home country yet again. His cold tone changed to disbelief when I told him I was headed to Moldova; and his disbelief changed to incredulation when I explained I would be there for 10 months. Artiom, Julia and I had great conversations (in fact, they had been working at a restaurant and coffeeshop in the resort area of Gulf Shores, AL... New Orleans' unofficial beach destination... where Bailey and I spent a few days last October.) Meeting them was certainly worth the lost sleep!

What are the odds? When I was in a moment of despair, and asking myself "What am I doing," I was given the opportunity to explain to two professionals why it is that I am travelling to Moldova; reigniting my own excitement. Then, as that excitement turned to curiosity I was given the opportunity to converse wwith two Moldovans from Chisinau. It just begs the question; odds... or God?