Well, folks, after arriving in Billings at 12:30 a.m. last night and marveling at the aesthetics of the pseudo-swank bus station lobby for an hour, I caught the 1:30 a.m. bus to Bozeman and arrived at the bus station (also known as the 7th street Wal-Mart Supercenter parking lot) right on time at 3:45 a.m. to a cheering and enthusiastic mob (also known as the McClaflin family).
It's good to be home.
After multiple days of longish posts from the trip, I won't bore you with yet another one here. Suffice it to say that, while I'd rather not do it all over again next weekend, I'm glad to have gone through it. It's never a bad thing for me to (again) be reminded that I am not in control of the world, as well as that my response in the midst of said lack of control is what God is always working with me on. By his grace, I did okay.
It was also a good reminder of how blessed I am to have friends interested enough in my silly goings-on to leave a comment, send a text, or call with encouragement throughout the adventure. The events of the trip were hardly life-threatening, but I'm reminded regardless of how a word aptly spoken can be like apples of gold in settings of silver (Proverbs 25:11).
Blessings and thanks from the end of the line, everyone.
Fade to black, cue music, roll credits.
(Note: As soon as I posted this, I got an email from Greyhound with the subject line "How'd we do?" Sigh. You just can't make this stuff up.)