Be it ever so humble...

I am so happy to be home. Colorado is always beautiful, but there is no place like home. I spent the last five days at the Colorado Christian Writer's Conference at Estes Park.

If this sounds like a retreat to you, then you ought to think again. The conference was not a relaxing get away in the mountains. It was an non-stop, action packed week of learning, growing and worshiping God. The conference rocked me. I needed to get home to find a little rest!

The whole event surprised me. I didn't find much of what I expected in the way of writing instruction. I found something far better and more useful. I found God speaking to me.

My Father spoke to me through the dear people that I encountered. He spoke to me through the fire and fervor they displayed. Their passions and testimonies grabbed my heart.

I trekked over 500 miles not knowing what I would find, not knowing if I could even consider myself a writer. This is what I found: God has given me a message. Therefor, I am a writer. Ideas for compositions are raining down on me. I cannot keep up.

Our opening and closing sessions took place here each day.

Scads of elk and mule deer inhabit the area around Estes Park.
On an interesting and slightly weird (ok, very weird) side-note, my oldest son attended the conference as he has done for the past four years. Though Wes appears to be a little older than he is, I must look a bit younger. The two of us were mistaken for a married couple or brother and sister more than once. I took too much pleasure in the flabbergasted faces of the people who couldn't believe that I was his mother.

The altitude affected me more than I expected. My head ached from the time I arrived until I got down out of the mountains today. I tossed and turned each night that I was away.Now that I am home my head is clear and I can't wait to crawl into bed. I look forward to sharing some exciting things that happened while I was gone and displaying some improved writing skills.

Wes at breakfast today.
I can tell I'm close to my hometown of Hays, Kansas when I see these clean, white, chalk rock country roads. I know, they're limestone. I just feel like a kid again when I say chalk rock.
What do you think of these windmills? I find them beautiful in a way.