One of my favorite stories is while in Thailand in 1984, I was supposed to go speak at a church in a very remote area. My translator and I traveled for many hours. We arrived at a building with many Monks in orange clothing. My translator said that there were no hotels in the area and I would be staying at the monastery. There was no bed, just a mat. No one spoke English. The bathroom was down the hall and was minimal at best. Then my translator just said he had to go and left me. I got very little sleep, never ate, and could not believe that I was in such a place. The next morning, my translator came and got me, took me to the church where I spoke. God touched many lives. We traveled back to Bangkok to share at more churches the next week. Just the day in the life of a traveling missionary.