Like I said, I went to Latvia and Lithuania for the Thanksgiving holiday. As the day to leave approached, I began to have some doubts. Vann was home from Vannderbilt. Benjamin and Kate came from Denver. And I was leaving. It's not like I see them everyday, or every week, anymore. I mean, look at these guys. If everything else in my life turned bad, I would still have to be thankful for these two. And Kate, too, except that she didn't make it to the Original Pancake House for breakfast on Wednesday before Thanksgiving, where this photo was taken, again, after my sons begged for a snapshot to commemorate the occasion.

After a larger than usual breakfast loaded with enough sugar to induce a sudden, quick sleep in a short while, I drove to the airport, where I met Deb and Lyn, not for the first time, I just meant we arrived at the airport at approximately the same time. By the time we checked in and made it to our gate in time to wait awhile, I was looking forward to getting far out of town. Latvia and Lithuania generally fill that bill. A time away from work and my life had a lot of appeal. Even as my general attitude began to improve with that prospect, I saw two of my clients sitting a couple of rows over and went over to wish them a good Thanksgiving. Then I saw an attorney who had been on the other side of a case we finished this year and went to speak to him. All wonderful people, but meeting them in the airport reminded me of how much I needed to get away. And Deb and Lyn seemed ready as well.

Surprisingly, the Thanksgiving travel rush does not include a large flow of people from the U.S.A. to Latvia. It felt like we had chartered our own plane for the trip from Atlanta to Brussels for ourselves and a few friends. There was so much room that everyone on the plane could each stretch out on a row of seats to sleep. Now that's the kind of legroom I like. And with the large sugarload from earlier in the day helping me out, I drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally waking up to check our altitude, cruising speed, time at flight origin, time at flight destination, time elapsed, time to destination, head or tail wind velocity, and all in several languages. Fortunately the pilots seemed to have everything under control.

As an aside, I have become more and more appalled by the problem of the disparity in access to healthcare we have in this country based on ability to pay. But have you actually paid attention to those speeches the attendants give on airlines? If we were to crash over water, First Class passengers would have those nifty inflatable life preservers, whilc we commoners in coach would be clutching to our seat cushions. I understand the mixed drinks and the legroom and the general pampering. But whether you drown or not?

Anyway, we all would have had three seat cushions each, so I don't guess it would have been that big a deal. We would have all frozen in a matter of minutes, first class or not.

Originally we had a 50 minute layover in Brussels. That's not much time to make an international connection. Then a couple of days before we left it was reduced to 45 minutes. They said they couldn't guarantee connection or baggage with a time of less than 50 minutes. As it turned out, we had about 40 minutes. Apparently Interpol or some other black ops unit had put out the word that Lyn had a bottle of something in her carry on. So she was searched. I don't know what she did with that bottle. After a sprint through the beautiful Brussels airport, we arrived at the gate just in time. My bag and guitar did not, but it didn't really seem likely that they would have made it from plane to plane in such a short time. We bearly did. (yes I said bearly)

It was a short leg to Riga. After learning that my stuff had not made the connection, and receiving my two complimentary toiletry bags, which also contained t-shirts and socks, we headed to the exit where we met Dan Randall, who was waiting to take us to his home to spend the night. Dan drove our rental. It was inspirational. When he spotted a prized parking place come open, he didn't circle the block. He did a U-turn, simultaneously blocking traffic in both directions on Gertrudis, a downtown Riga street, and swiftly manuevered into the open place. "I wanta be like him," I thought.

Dan lead us to the flat where he lives with his wife Courtney. We went through a locked gate from the street to the alley/parking area for the building. Then through another locked entry way into the building. Then up two or three flights of dimly lit stairs. Honestly, it looked pretty bleak and run down, not unlike much of Riga. But then Dan lead us into the flat. It was great. Very, very cool. Very warm, light and comfortable. (Yes, I did say the flat was cool and then warm, but that's what I meant). And we met Courtney. She was even cooler than the flat. Also warm and comfortable. (Actually she appears to be rather light, in the kilogram sense of the word as well, though that will be changing slightly within the next few months). They showed us around and helped us feel at home. Then, as they prepared Thanksgiving Dinner for us (mostly Dan I think), we went out for a walk to get a little exercise and air after the long flight.

After a brisk walk up and down Gertrudis, a familiar route from previous Riga trips, we returned to the Randalls' home. Thanksgiving dinner had been prepared. Two tables were covered first with cloths, then with food, and put together along side "big brown" the incredibly comfortable sectional sofa. Joe and Nick, who work in Riga training youth ministers, and Kelly and Donna, who are also in ministry in Riga, arrived. We all sat at the table and shared a Thanksgiving meal of baked chicken, scalloped and whipped potatoes, cranberry sauce, bean casserole, carrots, apple crisp, probably some other things I am sure I ate, and wine. We talked and laughed and shared the evening as friends being thankful. Truly serendipitous.

"Big brown" was my bed. It was very handy to push back from the table and lie down. I tried to stay awake, but as Deb and Dan talked, their talk turned into the language of the teacher in the Charlie Brown movies, and I drifted off to sleep. I woke up as Dan was saying good night. But not for long. I slept hard.

So hard that when I woke up, everyone else was up, sitting in my bedroom, also known as the kitchen, dining room and den. They apparently had long since quit talking in whispers so as not to wake me up. The airport had called. My bag and guitar would be delivered by ten o'clock.

We sat with Courtney awhile and talked. Dan had gone to Liepaja. Courtney stayed at the flat and Deb and Lyn and I went to shop for a few things. We would walk to the store and then to Old Town. The day was grey and cold, in the upper thirties, low forties. Snow was still piled up along the curbs from last weeks heavy snow. It was nasty from a few days of traffic.

I love walking in these cities of Eastern Europe. They are so interesting. So authentic. The old buildings, brick streets, the people, the shops, the history. I always learn something important. Friday I learned two things. I wore my orange/brown pants, you know, that carhart color. I conducted a scientific survey from a sample of thousands of men in Riga that day. I was the only man wearing anything other than black or dark blue pants. OK, there was one other man wearing light grey, but he also seemed to be a little off, so I removed him from the survey sample. So the first thing I learned that if you wear color of any kind in winter in Riga, you stand out just a bit. Second, I learned that there are two streets whose names begin with Kristijana. So, when we took Kristijana Valdemara, I thought it would take us back to within a couple of blocks of the Randalls' home on Gertrudis. That would have happened if we had been on Kristijana Barona. Being the human GPS, I was greatly disturbed as we walked, knowing that something wasn't right. But we kept walking. And kept walking. Finally we turned and went back at an angle from the way we had come. We got home after exploring a large part of Riga. And my guitar and bag had arrived at two o'clock.

One other major surprise Friday. As we were roaming the shops of Old Town, from shop to Double Coffee to shop to Double Coffee, we were shocked to come upon a likeness of one of our old friends back in the states. We know that sometimes young pastors, especially those who have just got married, may have to find a little extra income some where, so . . .

Jack Hinnen, for Coca Cola in Latvia . . .

More to come. I gotta rest.

Thinking of that trek through Riga made me tired.