Sometimes things happen that simply don’t make quite enough sense.

There was no need for anyone to talk to me as I stood in the queue, hoping to change my first class ticket from London to Brussels for an earlier train.  As I explained to the woman at the desk, I was more than happy to sit in second class, if that meant I could get home forty minutes earlier than planned.

If you can measure the quality of time in hugs, smiles and conversation about things that matter, then this weekend had been a good one.  But now it was over.  I was tired and keen to return home, having spent all my love and energy in the company of my ‘London kids’. 

A man stood in line behind me.  I am not sure when he had joined the queue or quite how the conversation got started, but as I waited for the woman to return with my new ticket we began to talk. 

To be honest, I was only half listening, so did not quite catch the name of the Caribbean island from which he was returning or the exact nature of the project in which he was involved over there.  Neither did I ask him to repeat this information, as I simply assumed that this forty-something, well dressed man with a strong Dutch accent was just being polite -  passing the time of day before it was his turn to be at the front of the queue.

The woman at the desk called me over and handed me my new ticket.  But as I turned to leave, the man in line approached me again.  He clearly wanted to keep the conversation going.

‘I believe we have met for a reason,’ he started to say.  ‘I have a very strong feeling about who you are and believe that we have an opportunity together to make a difference.  You are a good man, with a good heart.  You are a good dad, trying to do your best for your children.  I see that in you.  I feel that very strongly about you.’

Taller than me, I looked up at this stranger who, for whatever reason, had chosen to speak with unusual candor and intent.

If only you knew, I thought to myself.  If only you knew how complicated it feels to be anything close to ‘good’ when it comes to being a dad these days.  If only you knew how many times I have stood in this very station, at this very platform, caught in the middle distance between children in two countries. 

Despite the awkwardness, there was a warmth in his voice that I found hard to explain.  Why me?  Why now?  What did any of this mean?  My mind was full of questions.

Thanking him for his kindness, I explained that I needed to call my younger son back to resolve a technical difficulty that he was having with the new iPod he had just purchased.  

As we shook hands, he told me his name. 

John. 

Looking back as I passed through the security barrier, I noticed that the stranger on the platform was gone.  Perhaps I’ll never know what he wanted and, to be honest, I don’t really care.

It was just another fragment – a moment in time worth remembering.  All part of life’s unfolding and wonderfully enriching story.