But as we drove, I felt sick, not with joy or anticipation for my return home, but unfortunately, physically sick. I hoped it was just exhaustion, but I suspected (correctly, it turns out) that I was paying the price for having seen Kelly on the heels of her stomach virus earlier in my trip. I asked Pat to pull over, and he took me to a fast food restaurant, where I leaned over a toilet in the ladies' room, and my body tried to vomit, but mostly just convulsed in sickness. I hadn't been eating well as I traveled, so fortunately, there simply wasn't much to bring up.

As I stood over that toilet, it hit me that the sickness placed me in the midst of my greatest fears: I was away from home, I was sick and weak and vulnerable, and I was about to get on a plane. And suddenly, I was totally, unexpectedly, serene.

Mark says that he believes God is in our freedom to make choices, in seeing and knowing that we are not trapped, but free. And as I climbed back into Pat's car, I felt that. I knew the kids were safe at home with Mark. I knew that, as much as Mark ought to be back at work the next day, he would not be fired or fall dangerously far behind if I needed to stay. I knew I could change my flight, and that even if there were fees, short as we are on money, I could find some way to pay them. I knew Mark would support me in whatever I decided and would care for me when I got home.

I suspected I had a virus, and I knew that it would pass in a day. I knew I got that virus by making the choice to see Kelly: someone I loved as much as anyone in the world, someone who needed me to be there for her. I knew that was the right decision and that it had been worth it.

I knew Pat was with me and that he would take care of me. I knew I was with someone I could vomit in front of without worry or shame. I knew there was no need to fear vulnerability or weakness. I knew I was with one of my best friends in the world, someone I had known and trusted for more than a quarter of a century, for more than half my lifetime, someone who knew me as well as anyone in my life.

I knew I was safe. I knew I was cared for. I knew I didn't need to do anything, not even decide right then what I was going to do. I knew I was free to choose. I called Mark to tell him what was going on, and he said he could hear the serenity in my voice.

We had time; we kept driving. And I waited to see how I felt. We drove to the airport, with me clutching a bag, eyes closed, breathing, just being with the sickness, waiting to see if I'd feel better, waiting for my choice to become clear. Pat told me I'd be ok, and I knew I would. Pat told me he'd sit with me at the airport or take me home with him, whatever I wanted. Pat parked the car and waited there with me. And sitting there in his car, in the airport parking lot, I leaned over the bag, convulsed in sickness, and knew I couldn't make it into the airport, couldn't make it onto the plane. Everything was clear. I told Pat I didn't want to get on the plane. And he drove me home.

On the way, he talked to me and sang to me and joked with me and told me he knew I must be sick because I wasn't laughing at his jokes. I told him, closed eyed and nauseated but smiling, that his jokes simply weren't that funny. We drove, and I listened, I breathed, I spoke when I could, and I held still as wave after wave of nausea washed over me.

Pat made sure my flight was changed. Pat's fiancée prepared a bed for me with fresh sheets. They got me water to drink and a bucket to vomit into. They made sure I had bland foods, clear liquids and a ride back to the airport the next day. And they let me sleep, in their quiet house, with the sound of the ocean breeze in the trees outside. And I felt safe, and serene, and grateful.

That night, I wept with a gratitude that felt too big for me to hold, a gratitude I wanted something as big as God to hold. And in spite of the sickness, I slept better than I had during my entire trip. And when I got on the plane the next day, I had no fear, no anxiety. I knew I was safe. I knew I was loved. I knew wherever I went, I was home.