This is the US Embassy in Madrid calling...

The counter clerk at the US Embassy dispenses with the case at hand and picks up another pink folder from his stack. I'm watching from across the crowded waiting room, eager for our pink folder to reach the top of the pile.

He pulls out a badly damaged US passport and flips through the warped, delaminated pages. I lean into Jack and giggle, "It looks like it went through the washing machine." The clerk shows it to his colleague. An object of intrigue. Then he calls a young man to his window, a US college student here for a year abroad. "Yeah," he says, "I forgot to take it out of my pocket and it went through the wash." He stuffs his new passport application under the window. The clerk asks why he hasn't completed the form. "I can't remember my parents' birthdates, so I left them blank." He cannot apply for a new passport without a completed form, but the Embassy clerk is very agreeable and asks the student, "Would you like to call them right now?" How utterly refreshing, such a simple solution to a problem. "Sure." The student tells the clerk his mother's phone number, the clerk dials, and lets the younger man around the counter to talk to his mom. My heart aches for her.

2 a.m. in Salt Lake City. The phone wakes her, heart pounding. "Hello, this is the US Embassy in Madrid." She is nearly in cardiac arrest now. "I have your son here." She thanks God that he is alive though the panic hasn't subsided. She will feel the weight that moment for the next several days. The clerk hands the phone to our young college friend who was careless with his laundry last Saturday morning after a long night out in the bars of Madrid. "Hey, mom. I need your birthdate...."

I squeeze Jack's hand as we share a glimpse into the grand journey ahead.