Home!

John plays a pitiful travelor to an Oscar-winning level, so we manage to get placed #'s 1 and 2 on stand-by for the plane out of Bangkok. The moment they handed us our boarding passes, we knew we were bound for home, as we had reserved seats waiting for us on the flight out of Seoul.

I cried.

My daughter observes that she's never seen me cry; it's something I do privately. But on this trip, I cried frequently and profusely. I was grateful to be wearing dark sunglasses on the trail when we at last encounted the doctors who offered treatment to John, because at that moment I began crying and couldn't stop for several minutes. I cried when I tried to express words of gratitude to Passan for his help in getting John down the mountain. John and I choke back tears when later we admit just how concerned we were about his safety. I cried when I emailed messages home to Debbie and I sobbed when reading messages from her. I cried when reading notes from friends and church members. Of course I cried when I read the Tennessee-Alabama football score, but...

They were good tears, tears that reminded me of where my heart belongs, of how strongly my life is bound to people I love and who love me, tears that felt like prayers without words. Now, some time after the trip, the memories bring smiles as often as tears, but the tears were important and I will continue to cherish them as much as the smiles and the beauty.