One of the most vivid memories of my childhood is of this little church in Eden, Wyoming on a Sunday morning when my Daddy was the fill in pastor. We would get up at the crack of dawn and drive snowy roads so that he could open it up and get ready for the days services. The smell of the damp logs and dirt, the old hymnals and the hard wooden pews. And it was drafty... I can't decide which part of the memory I love most, the feeling that we were being transported right into the pioneer days or the ice cream in Farson Mercantile afterward... these days inspired my faith in God in such a simple and profound way that I have never stopped pursuing Him.