Weston is a talker. He will say anything and everything to anyone who takes a moment to how interest. A simple "hello" is an invitation to converse. I love that about him. I wasn't sure how well his seatmate would appreciate it.
At some point he leaned over and asked me how to say miracle in Spanish.
I answered, curious about why he needed to know, and perked up my ears to try to eavesdrop on his conversation. He and a woman leaned their heads together, intently talking. I could hear nothing.
The plane landed.
We stood to leave when she put her hand on my shoulder.
"You have the most lovely son." she told me in Spanish.
"Thank you. I hope he did not bother you too much." I responded
"He tried to tell me the gospel." she said.
She went on to tell me that she was already a believer and active in her home church in Guayaquil.
She was a stranger, in a strange country, surrounded by a strange language, and found, sitting next to her...
a little brother.