I’m headed out right at dusk, driving south on Highway 19/41 into Griffin. It’ll be late by the time I get home, but my visit to Hampton was something I felt compelled to do.

About two years ago, I noticed that I had a reader from Hong Kong. I wasn’t surprised because I actually get readers from all over the world. It’s insane, I know. I look at the list on my stats page and try to imagine some guy over in Nigeria trying to make sense of my stories. This year alone I’ve had readers from over 60 different countries. Most of them read less than 5 stories, but that’s how it goes in the world of international stardom.

But Hong Kong was different. I don’t know how to explain how I know this, but I could tell that the reads coming from somewhere in the heart of one of the most famous cities on the planet were coming from one person. Somebody got ahold of Georgia Bred, took a liking to it, and was going back through the archive 10 to 20 stories at a time.

I thought, “This is crazy. It’ll probably play out. They’ll get tired of it and disappear.”

But that didn’t happen. They kept reading. Months went by and they were still reading. And that’s when I wrote a story I called “Whoever You Are,” which was my way of prompting a response from my mystery reader from overseas.

I was dying to know who it might be. Surely they must be from the States. Maybe Georgia. Maybe they’re homesick. Loony. I had no idea.

It took a while, but I finally got a response.

It turns out that my reader was/is a she. She did grow up in Georgia. She and her husband both went to Atlanta Christian College, graduating the spring before I started classes there in the fall of 1974. At some point her parents moved to Hampton, and she has/had family in Griffin. All of which means that our lives overlap in a dozen different directions yet never having met.

I got an email from her a couple of months ago telling me that she and her husband would soon be coming to the States on furlough. This is the life of a missionary. Every few years you come home, visit the folks who have faithfully supported you, give your report of what’s happening with the work, and move on to the next town in another state.

It’s a grueling pace.

Anyway, she said she’d be coming to Berea Christian Church in Hampton and maybe we’d meet one day.

Now, the two of them have been gone from Georgia over four decades. Over that length of time, you lose track of your geographic bearings, even if it is your home state. She knows that I’m in Pine Mountain, but has no clue exactly where that is.

I thought about it. It would be nice to meet the person who created all this mystery for me. The one behind the numbers that kept piling up on my stat sheet. That would be interesting.

But, as you would expect, I got busy and forgot about it.

Until last Monday. I was texting my buddy, Pete, who goes to Berea. I threw it out there that I knew of this missionary from Hong Kong who was supposed to be in Hampton some time this year, and did he know who I was talking about and when she would be in town.

I didn’t think it would hurt to ask. I might drive up there to meet her.

He told me he knew exactly who I was talking about. In fact, she and her husband were going to be at Berea in two days to speak to the folks on Wednesday night.

“Reserve me a seat,” I told him.

When I got there, I parked in the upper lot and walked in through the back door to the kitchen. When you go “home”, even though you haven’t lived there in 48 years, you just walk in like you own the place.

I saw some familiar faces, gave and received a few hugs. Through the doorway to the fellowship hall I could see Pete talking to a woman I didn’t recognize. Shoulder length silver hair pulled tight to her head. Small glasses perched on her nose. A touch of class in a simple smile. An elegant, dark blue dress.

Pete said something to her, and I wouldn’t know until later what it was. But he asked her if she read my blog and said to her, “There he is. He just walked in the door.”

I don’t know how you think two total strangers should greet one another for the first time. Sometimes it’s a handshake. Maybe just a polite smile if you’re unsure of one another. If it’s somebody you’ve heard of but have never met, you might take a shot at a side hug.

She walked straight into the kitchen where I was standing, both arms held high in the air. I saw her coming and very astutely assumed, “This must be her.”

We hugged like we were long lost cousins and best friends. Her husband came around the corner right behind her.

“So, this is the fella I’ve been hearing about for so long.”

I apologized with some kind of clumsy comment. He laughed and we shook hands. The three of us sat down together over pizza and tea, and a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies. We talked about their story from Georgia to Hong Kong. We threw out names of people that we had in common from years gone by. It was just a wonderful treat to get to know them both.

She apologized for me having to drive so far. I told her that she traveled a lot farther. We both agreed that it was nice finally to have a face to go with the name.

As I’m driving home, I can’t help but think about the deep sense of purpose they must share together in order for them to give themselves to a work so far from home for the last 47 years. It’s one thing to be gung-ho at first. It’s quite another to keep it going to the finish line. They model something that we need more of in this world.

I’m also thinking about me, Pete, and another friend, Charles, all being there tonight. All three of our dads were leaders in that church. John, Chester, and Earl. They served on committees together. They taught Sunday School together. They worked behind the scenes, visited the sick, and set up tables for Homecoming.

It was surreal to think of them gone and us present.

But if you live long enough, someplace along the way, you’ll have those moments where you find yourself inseparably connected to the generations that went before you, as well as to new friends whom you just met. There is a familiarity and a kindred spirit that crosses time and space. And tonight was one of those moments.

One day, we’ll call that place Home.

David and Lynn, I’ll see you there.