First, my suitcase had been lost in transit. Second, my feet hurt. I had traveled for a couple of days in and out of airports from New York City to the Middle East.

         In my battered travel shoes and worn outfit, I wandered around the U.S.  consulate complex in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, finally finding my way to the gathering held to introduce me, the new U.S. consular officer, to my new neighbors, as the first Gulf war loomed in the background.

        I was older than most Foreign Service officers, having finally been accepted into the Foreign Service as I was approaching fifty years old. I also spoke with a decided Southern accent. Previous foreign travels included a couple of days in Canada when I was a teenager, plus a quick trip across the border to Mexico when my brother was stationed at a U.S. army base in Arizona.

      Somehow, I survived. A few days after the consulate gathering, I attended a Christmas celebration with a small number of mostly expatriate Christians, then went on to complete several Foreign Service tours against the background of momentous changes in the Middle East that we still are living with.