I meant to write last night, but it wasn't until after I watched the tailights of my little car heading down the road that I remembered that the next time I'll see my laptop, or any of my piddly possessions, it will be at John F. Kennedy Airport. My trunk is full, my backseat houses some blankets and pillows, I'll tug my only suitcase around Nepal for the next few weeks. That's it.

Last night I hugged people one by one as they prepared to leave. I read a few cards whose messages made me cry. I stood in the shadow of my two closest friends (now miraculously made one through the covenant of marriage) and we prayed under the shadow of the most high. I felt a few tears rise up in the corners of my eyes a few times; not because I'm leaving -- no, but because for the first time in my life I'm excited about the Lord. Not my life, or the direction it's taking, not my talents, not my identity, not my past, not my future -- but Him alone.

It's a good place to be.