As September cooled to the refreshing temperatures of fall, I did a little inward jig. Yippee. A kinder, gentler season beckoned me.
A travel brochure I’d received fed my longings. The tour featured Ireland and Scotland, lands of rolling green hills, cool blue lakes, and legends to be pondered deep into the night.
I sighed, set aside the brochure, and locked the images away in my dream box.
A few days later, I learned of a writer’s conference that centered on the craft of writing fiction for kids. Another dream formed in my heart. The Writing for the Ages conference at Glen Eyrie would take place in just two weeks and in a land far, far way—Colorado.
Hoping to find some way to attend, I searched the travel websites so many times I learned the airport code for Colorado Springs by heart: COS. I soon realized I hadn’t made plans soon enough. I didn’t have the funds for the conference and the flight.
This wish, too, I placed in my dream box and closed the latch.
One day, as I readied my grandson for a trip to Nashville, a line of writing caught my eye. Just above his blond head, embroidery spelled out the brand name of his car seat: COSCO. I smiled.
COSCO is the full code name for the Colorado Springs airport in Colorado. Was God opening up the dream I had shut away? I shrugged off the coincidence, but soon, funds for the conference were provided in a way I hadn’t thought possible. My dream opened into reality.
I arrived at the Glen Eyrie Conference Center in Colorado Springs and stepped into another world. The Rocky Mountains towered behind spiraling sandstone sculptures that made me gulp. An emerald valley opened to sapphire-blue skies. Flowers waved over the rolling hills. Rabbits and wild turkeys strolled the grounds. A turn-of –the-century castle nestled close to the lush hillside.
Impressive and grand, yet warm and welcoming, the Scottish-inspired castle blended into the natural surroundings and served as a welcoming sentinel for visitors. I spent three days mingling with other writers and instructors within the castle’s main gathering hall. Our meals were served in the dining room and our classes took place in the rustic, restored carriage house.
Not only had I opened the dream box, I danced inside of it.
Three days and many friendships later, I began the trip home. A friend sent me a text: Did you make it in safely?
As rain pummeled the windows of the airport gate and gray skies darkened the waiting area, I answered: Not yet.
I didn’t relax until our plane zoomed above the dissipating storm. Through the small window next to me, a magical sight caught my eye. God’s original emblem of love stretched below me. A rainbow curved through the skies. There wasn’t a pot of gold, but I’d already received a beautiful gift.
No matter what our dreams, God’s plans are exceeding abundantly above whatever we ask or think.