I guess it would be lovely to be one of those people who gets to write about how the Holy Spirit must have blown me out of New Jersey and across Staten Island and Brooklyn into Queens, since I made it to LaGuardia 40 minutes before my flight left. One of those heartwarming bits about how my role as a conversation starter at Len Sweet’s Mountain Advance must have been ordained by Jesus himself, since I made it through security and to the gate with just enough time to grab a cup of coffee and make the flight. 

But, unfortunately, this newbie speaker has to write about Martin and I bumbling with a sub-par GPS, snapping and sniping at one another between episodes of what became a random, top-of-my-lungs, less-than-holy mantra: “I am such a ^$&@# idiot!“

So, I begin this quest first with gratitude that I did not have to go to a Plan B like driving to West Virginia or taking the flight that would have resulted in a 2 am arrival. Then with a public bit of repentance – sorry Martin. I am blessed to be married to a man who puts up with my crap. And third, I begin a firm grasp of exactly how rough around the edges I am and how much I hope to learn in West Virginia.

Time to board.