A breath-taking installment in the epic saga. Get excited.

Today, I apologize, but I will not write much about the sessions that I attend. My friends and lovely, lovely readers, I have quite a story for you. I hope you're prepared.

Some background: my fourth session of the day was an interactive workshop on spiritual directors, led by six women and a man from all over the the world and from all different spiritual traditions. At one point in their program, they mentioned that they were hosting another program that was taking place right after. It was a daily session called "A Listening Place Each Day," a quiet room where one could come to reflect and meditate as well as speak to the available spiritual directors.

During the program, I sat next to a wonderfully kind priest named Tim from Sydney, who was unbelievably nice to me when I had a bit of a breakdown: I was homesick and my stomach was still bothering me. Tim, thank you again.

Anyway, on to my next session. I attended "12 Steps: A Complete, Non-Denominational Spiritual Path for the 21st Century." It was mildly interesting, but I was largely preoccupied by my stomach, which was suddenly acting very, very strange.

I don't know why I decided to go to the bathroom, but it's a good thing I did, because as soon as I was in the stall, I was on my knees in my cute little Banana Republic capris, vomiting.

Yes. Vomiting in the Melbourne Convention & Exhibition Center during the 2009 Parliament of the World's Religions.

Allow me a moment of self-pity and let me say this: to find yourself vomiting, in a public restroom of an enormous venue, in a foreign country, when your bag is in another room, and the only other person you know is God knows where, and you are without a phone or any awareness of medical facilities, is very, very scary.

In between making some really cute noises, I was wondering, What am I going to do? I had no idea to whom I could turn for the help that I so desperately needed. And then I remembered the listening place, and the kindly women who promised to be there. So, once my stomach had stopped performing gymnastics, I stumbled, shaky and crying, into the listening room.

I was immediately led to a chair and surrounded by Lynette Dungan, Bernadette Miles, and Liz Ellmann, three of the kind women who had led the previous session. And for the next hour, they cared for me.

They brought me water and tissues. Lynette covered me with her shawl to help with my sudden, incessant, and violent shivering. They were understanding and forgiving of my pathetic whimpers. "I just want my mom," I sobbed. "Well," they said, "now you have three!" They asked me about home, about my parents, about my work at the Parliament, about my wonderful boyfriend, about Margaret, and more. I told them about all these things, and about my homesickness. They talked with me for an hour, keeping my mind off my illness and helping me with my homesickness. They were fascinating women, one of them from Minnesota, and I really enjoyed talking to them. When the session was over, they walked me down to meet Margaret and wished me goodbye.

These women were among the kindest, warmest people I have ever met. If they had not been there, I don't know what I would've done. But I went to them, and they cared for me as if I were their own child at a time when I may not have been able to help myself. I am so, so thankful for them, more than I can express with mere words. If you women are reading this: thank you so much for your love and kindness.

As for my illness, I'm on the mend. I'm under strict instructions from Liz, Lynette, and Bernadette to stay in bed and drink water and eat crackers for the next 24 hours, and I won't dare stray from their orders (I think they're all moms, and it's really foolish to defy a mom who is on a diagnostic rampage). Perhaps tomorrow I will write about the sessions that I did manage to attend without purging my innards. But for today, I can only be grateful for the love that I received today. And I am so incredibly grateful.

I'll keep you all updated on my condition. Thanks for reading.

Love and peace,

Maggie