My husband gently shook my arm, and I opened my sleepy eyes. It took a minute to focus and process what I saw outside the car window. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was still dreaming. It looked as if we had been transported back in time and across the ocean.

We had just entered the old city gates of Quebec City. The streets had turned to cobblestone, and the buildings looked as if they had leapt from the pages of a classic fairytale. Flags fluttered, and flowers brought a cheery reminder of spring, despite the snow still on the ground.

We found our hotel and excitedly wheeled our bags through the front door. We were greeted by the charming woman behind the front desk. She welcomed us to Canada, checked us in, and gave us directions to the nearest parking facility. Once we got our bags all settled, we set out to park the car.

It didn’t take long for us to become hopelessly lost, and our GPS wasn’t much help. All the signs were in French. We couldn’t tell which streets were one way or which direction traffic was headed. There was a construction project blocking an entrance with a detailed sign explaining the detour. I’m sure it would have been extremely helpful to anyone who could read French.

My husband suggested we stop and ask for help, but I didn’t want to bother anyone. I was sure they had places to be and appointments to keep and did not want to be delayed by the unprepared Americans who hadn’t taken the time to download Google Translate before they got lost.

Thankfully, my husband decided to stop and ask anyway. Otherwise, we might still be driving in circles on the cobblestone streets of Old Quebec City. We pulled to the side of the road when we saw a couple eating lunch at a sidewalk café. I gathered together all the courage I could muster as I approached these strangers and asked them for help…

{To find out what happened next and what lessons God was teaching me, please click this link to continue reading at The Glorious Table. Designed to Need Help | The Glorious Table}