I bought a plaque as a spur-of-the-moment purchase I couldn’t afford in 2010 that said, “Home, where your adventure begins.”  It has since disappeared (along with a framed LIFE cover with a Normal Rockwell baseball painting I also bought and couldn’t afford which I care about losing a whole lot more), but I’ve never forgotten the message.

Home.

Not to sound like a certain Hobbit, but every adventure starts at your very own doorstep. More than that, it begins inside the home as people build you up and prepare you for your journey. Example? Mom packed my lunch for the airport today. What a regular old Gandalf she is.

::I’m going to interrupt myself here to promise to keep these blogs as short as possible. No one likes a rambler. Even an almost funny one::

I have had a lot of help getting ready to leave.

Where to?

Prague for two years (Lord willing).

Why?

To share the hope of the gospel! (Hopefully some travel and good times will be involved but I make no bones about this not being a pleasure trip).

Who’s been helping?

EVERYONE. People have been walking me through paperwork, sending me money, suggesting travel tips and praying for and encouraging me. Gosh, people have been excited for me even when I was too tired to be excited for myself (like a certain evening when I was sobbing in a parking lot because I hit someone’s car and my friend(s) had the good sense to tell me that I was probably overreacting but it was okay – just so long as I got on the plane the next morning. I am so blessed.

I feel like a fish. . . I can’t exactly explain the emotional justification for this, but just know it is a sincere reflection of my current state of being.

So here I am in LAX. Accordion snugly duct-taped away deep inside a cargo hold, passport sitting on my lap. I know not what the future holds, but I know who holds it.

And wherever this road will take me, home was a good place to start.