I am in a cold airport listening to elevator music and CNN, but I am thinking about hope. This past week I felt bale upon bale of golden hope pile up in the eyes of people I love, in the heart of a valley that will always feel homey. Walker and I were back in a certain little cove tucked precisely in the Smokies, the valley full of laughs and animal calls, the smell of wood smoke and deep forest air, the splendor of blue mountains variegating into the sky---that last year was home.

This quickie post is just to say I haven't forgotten the blog at all. But, there was a lot of this on the trip,

and the almost 1400 pictures we took are a bit overwhelming (in an exciting I can't wait to share this way). I can say this: my stomach felt like I'd done ab workouts the morning after the house talent show, and breathing the mountain goodness did me good.

Best of all, seeing the people with whom I've shared dish duty, flopped coffeecake (by moi) and young adult books was a gift I didn't even realize how much I'd love. This place is stunning

but the people there remind me that this life is about something so much bigger than today. Where homes have failed to point to the real love of the Father, there is hope for our only real home someday. That makes each day all the more vital. I can't wait to write more, but internet is sluggish and jet-lag starting to whack me. For now, blessings from a very good week.