On Saturday evening in Estes Park, I met a very odd couple. Hiding behind a cabin, an elk leaned against a fence while a black and white bird pestered him. The bird perched first on the elk’s ear, then his nose, his neck, and the elk bore it all patiently. They were an odd pair, but they seemed enjoy being together.
At the beginning of the writing conference, I felt like the odd half of an odd couple. I What did I think I was doing, perching beside well-known authors at meals, pestering agents and publishers in the hallways, picking the brains of magazine editors at appointments? Surely everyone would see through my act and throw me out on my ear.
But that’s not what happened. Instead, people encouraged me, asked for articles, and wanted to know when they could purchase A Different Dream for My Child. Almost everyone had a sister, a brother, a friend, a daughter, a son, a niece or a nephew who needs the book. And many wanted it for themselves. After the first few requests, the feeling of being the odd man out disappeared. It was replaced with the confidence and satisfaction that came with knowing I was exactly where I should be, ministering to the people God’s equipped me to meet.
Odd, isn’t it, how those things happen?
