Oh the big question. How to greet your loving wife on her first independant arrival in a European airport? Red carpet no doubt, flowers, chocolates, big smiles, even bigger hugs and smooches. Not this seasoned traveler, no. Better to arrive two hours late to the airport with a confused, "What was that in my porridge," look on one's face. Yours truly and military time have a love affair now well understood. I was so sure of myself after reading the 13:05 arrival time, excited that I would make sure to be early and greet Ruth with toothy, ear to ear smile. Unfortunately taking 13 to mean 3pm did not factor in to my plans. It was not until about 3pm that I took a gander at arrival reports and realized my grave error. I hoisted Darek from his partially eaten lunch (he not at all understanding the sudden need for flight and nearly choking on a half chewed morsel) and away we went. At first I did not want to admit to or believe that I had so bordered the ridiculous in my thinking and told Darek some kak-a-mamey version about the plane having arrived early. If he had been aware of my error then I might have received a swift one to the hind quarters. No, the real version of what happened was not made known until Ruth was safely stowed in the back of her awaiting chariot also known as Kia minivan. She was waiting for me; I expecting the harsh scowl of retribution; she desiring to inflict incredible harm; but both upon seeing one another, softened at the remebrance of time apart and thankfully deciding on embrace rather than the expected possibilities.

What had this moment meant? Why the fuss if others also have arrived to meet me in this place? For this lonesome traveler no arrival could have meant more. A first real connection between the two if not more world's of my life, one's on different continents that have remained almost completely seperate except for for me. Someone to share with me all that life shall bring and the experience of some things that came about already. With at least one person I am no longer to be aware each time I tell of something that though the person might appreciate my story, how could they every fully appreciate the experience of it. Until now those choice moments, written about with embellishing tones and phrases, spoken about later with joy in the sharing, always an awareness of the disconnect for the listener. I want to know more what it is to arrive home from those moments and share with a constant companion not only my joy my pain but that which she knew in those times. Ruth's arrival marks the beginning of a brand new chapter of the journey. As I mentioned before the possiblility of now "our story" where was once only "my story." Her arrival means that April 18th was just a beginning and that new life together no matter where it take us (important point) is now reality. I long to see my world through her eyes, to know that come what may our lives now support each others and refresh each others and shall push each others toward places of the heart unseen. No, this arrival like all the others is not followed with awarenesses of leaving, but rather is coupled with the incredible joy of a life joining on to mine. God's quintessential gift in understanding the heart of his son, the need of his son to no longer traverse his varied lives and worlds alone.

What is the point of a blog that is never updated I ask you. The nerve of some blog authors, leaving there sites dormant while adoring fans yearn for even a few words to sooth their literary needs. And what of adventure, does it not beg to be written about with red and gold accessories about it. Arrival in Amsterdam, that as good as anything is a place to begin. Six months in the United States behind me, ring on my finger, heaviness of step as I cross the airport and realize the weight of once again choosing insecure nomadic life, certain someone left behind if even just for a few days. What there first reminded me of return to my new life? Was it the cowboy hats before me in the customs line, worn stupidly and attempting to reflect volumes regarding the mind mass of the two individuals. Perhaps a 100 languages echoing out from every corner of the airport, reminding me that there is no one reliable method of communication, a one size and region fit that won't leave heads being scratched. No it was something in the boarding process, last takeoff to return to the nation that my grandma's family hailed from. A smiling blond man and accompanying smiling blond woman's cheerful faces greeting my arrival. In between monstrous bouts of their own language (sounds with striking resemblance to having large quantities of flem affixed to one's throat and of desiring to say a four letter word conveniantly rhyming with knit) the two blonde sterotypes of Hollandic goodness made time to say in unison, "Hello and good morning," not only using effective head gestures but an excellently generic United States accent. I can't tell you why but I can say that this was when the reminders fired. Western European mutilation of self in effort to make the tourist feel as though still safe in their own place with teddy and roast chestnuts. But oh the continued nerve of certain authors, to delay talk of what is most mentionable.

Why the ring on our hero's finger? Who the certain someone left behind? Can it be true that this chap who has been known to shave himself in Slovakian camp parking lots and associate with Pierre Cardin trouser wearing mechanics has found a wife? That the dream of family and of a slew of little munchkins racing about joyously has actually begun. Six months earlier he had arrived in Phoenix with little hope to grasp onto regarding the reason for the visit, feeling foolish for having believed that something might come of a friendship begun but frustratingly acted out. How now does he wear this ring? There is so much for which God is to be thanked for surely so much that happened would not be but for His love and constant leadership. I wish to say much of how this love has developed. Of what occurred between that time landing in Phoenix to today, and most especially before April 18th when we were lawfully joined together. Of how life has changed now in the midst of such intense newness in relationship. I couldn't wait another night to want to write and begin to tell of these things. I have been too long away from my writing board. Tomorrow afternoon, my love is to arrive, and rather than worry that I won't have time to write that rather I shall write more than ever in the knowledge that now I write for us, not only I.