Years ago my husband and I were posted overseas as diplomats, and moved there with our two young daughters. This African country was considered very safe and stable, so we were surprised when the customary newcomer briefing emphasized avoiding the road that led to the presidential compound. We learned that the army guarded access to that area and had at times indiscriminately shot trespassers.

Street lamps and street names were nonexistent in most neighborhoods, so it wasn’t easy for newcomers to find their way around, especially after sunset. On our second night in the capital, we became hopelessly lost. This was before cellphones and GPS, so we were driving around in circles, asking pedestrians for help. The average citizen did not speak English well, and no one understood us.

I knew that prayer was the only solution, and I trusted that my prayer would be answered.