Well, the halfway point of my three-month journey finds me in the same place that I was on day one: Amsterdam Centraal. I am sitting on a train, preparing to embark on a day-long rail ride to Munich, Germany. It is a bittersweet departure.

In the last 45 days of my life, God’s blatant, undeniable presence has become more and more apparent and real than ever before. I could write a 300-page book about all the ways He has provided just within the last two weeks. But instead I will share a simple story about a suitcase.

Well, it’s about two suitcases, really…

Two weeks ago, as I was leaving Paris, the wheels on my suitcase stopped rolling. The axles were bent to the point that the wheels were wedged against wells, and would no longer rotate. I was dragging my suitcase (as opposed to rolling it) everywhere I went, which eventually took its toll on the wheels so that they ground down to almost nothing. But in the midst of my crazy schedule, I had neither the time nor the money to spend on a new suitcase. So I chose to look on the bright side and see it as an opportunity to bulk up my pectoral muscles.

But when I was in Frankfurt on Tuesday, I happened to find a luggage store just around the corner from my hostel. I found perfectly sized suitcase (with working wheels to boot) for only 20€. Once again, God had provided.

So when I got to Brussels the next day I wasn’t expecting to see my suitcase literally fall apart before my eyes. All of the support bars that held everything in place – including the wheels – simply fell off. I lost part of it without knowing, and the rest slowly dismantled itself over the course of a few hundred yards.

By the time the last piece fell off, and a lady at the Brussels train station shouted, “Monsoir!” to inform me that I had just left a vital piece of my suitcase by the escalator, I simply replied with an apathetic, “I know”, and kept walking, with suitcase number two grinding along behind me.

So there I was, lugging my luggage around Brussels, tired, sweaty, not feeling well, no clue where to go or where to find a hostel, no show booked, and I still haven’t figured out what twisted conglomeration of French and Dutch they were trying to speak. (Make up your mind Belgium!)

I saw two options: burn some cash to stay in Belgian hostel with no prospects of a show, or go to Amsterdam, where I knew I could find a respite, and a friendly face.

I chose Amsterdam.

I called my friend and fellow singer/songwriter Eva Ellingsworth, who I would be staying with for the weekend anyway, to see if I could come to Amsterdam a couple of days early. She was gracious enough to take me in.

I met her Thursday afternoon at the Amsterdam library, where she was performing a few of her songs live on Amsterdam’s version of NPR. I was able to catch her last song, as well as an interview. After the show, she introduced me to her friend Rufus, who is also part of the Amsterdam Songwriters Guild. Apparently she had told him about me, because I was immediately offered a pair of gigs for Friday and Sunday night.

So the most trying day of my journey thus far turned into the first of four amazing days in Amsterdam. I was able to have my own bedroom for four nights (for free!), and I sold more CDs in Amsterdam than in any other city. Add to that a very successful day of busking, and a wonderful time with my brothers and sisters at Zolder50 Church, and it’s more than obvious why God let me buy that busted suitcase. He knew what He was doing.

There are a lot of other details that I need to fill in, like my night as roadie for Eva and her band. And of being offered a joint for the first time in my life. (I politely refused.) And of getting a new, (hopefully) better suitcase for a decent price. (I decided to not go quite so cheap this time.)

And now I’m en route to Munich. A big part of me will miss Amsterdam and all of my friends there dearly. But at the same time, it feels good to be back on the rails, headed to a new city, rested up and ready to see what God is going to do in my last week on the continent.

Let’s just hope none of it involves a busted suitcase.