While wandering around the airport in London with hours still to kill before our flight to Addis, we hear the increasingly piercing screams of a very unhappy baby, held by a harried mother with a pained look on her face, and even in this packed waiting room there's a ring of space around them, and people just past the buffer of space are looking away resignedly and unhappily as the baby's screams rattle all our ears. Thinking we might be in the same predicament on the way home, I go to the mother to ask if her baby is sick. As I speak I pat his arching, sweaty back, feeling for fever and thinking maybe if he is sick I can offer her some baby Tylenol, but she says he isn't sick, he just needs desperately to go to sleep, so I continue to pat his back, and suddenly he stops mid-scream, takes a wavery breath while staring at me, and then very abruptly closes his eyes and collapses in sleep on his mother’s shoulder. She and I look at each other in surprise, and I pat her arm encouragingly and back off quickly, fearing if I linger I might disturb his delicate calm, and as I turn to leave, the mother calls out quiet thanks, and as I walk away with my children I see a man staring slack-jawed, and he says to me in awe, as if he's seen sorcery: "How did you do that?" I stifle a chuckle telling him I don't know, but I remember when something similar had happened to us in Seoul with a sick baby, and a lady who showed up at just the right moment in the airport offering us a bottle of infant cold medicine, We thought she must have been an angel, and I felt blessed that somehow I'd been able to pay her kindness forward to another tired momma. God does indeed watch over travelers.