From Glass Beads to Gold Rings, Estes Park, CO

Last year, while working at Winter Park Resort’s Lost and Found, I was fortunate to witness many beautiful lessons through the gorgeous stories of lost and found items.

I did not expect to collect stories from the Glass Fusion studio. Yet here is one that warms my heart and reminds me that deep down, we are all artists.

Leah came to spend a few days with her sister, Lindsay, her nieces, and their mother. They have been coming to the YMCA for several years and always enjoy time at the craft center.

While Lindsay knew exactly what she wanted to create in the glass fusion studio this time, Leah hesitated.

She was not ready to start that afternoon. She preferred to begin the next day. She showed me what she had made the year before and said, “I am thinking of doing something similar.”

I encouraged her to take the time to think about a new idea. I sent Leah off with homework — to dream up a new vision, to try something different, and to gently challenge herself.

I truly believe that we are all artists, with no expectations. I have also learned that the critical voice in our head is often not even our own. It is someone else’s fear and judgment. When I recognized this for myself and stopped listening to that voice and chose to find my own voice, my creativity bloomed.

After all, art is an expression of the heart. There is no right or wrong.

The next morning, Leah returned to the Glass Fusion studio with a wide smile, excited to begin.

She had done her homework.

Watching her enthusiasm and excitement for her new idea warmed my heart.

I offered to review her concept and explore ways to bring it to life. I never like to push my ideas or my way of thinking. Creativity needs to be welcomed, not imposed. I prefer to offer guidance while allowing the guest to make their own decisions.

Leah was more than happy to hear my thoughts and asked me to help guide her in turning her octopus idea into a glass fusion piece. I love sharing my experience and knowledge of glass fusion with guests!

When she finished, she was radiant with pride and joy. Moments like these are what make my work so meaningful.

I asked Leah if I could take a photo of her piece before it went into the kiln, knowing I would not be there the next day to see the final result. Since she chose to tack fuse it, I knew it would look very similar to what I saw at that moment.

I also asked if I could use her sketch as inspiration for a sample piece, since the YMCA’s spring theme is “Under the Sea.”

I did not want to duplicate her work or her way of creating the octopus. Her style deserved to remain hers.

Instead, I used the opportunity to show our guests what could be done with the glass beads we make ourselves.

When I returned to work a few days later, a beautiful thank-you note was waiting for me on my desk.

That note is one I will cherish forever.

Moments of self-pride are gentle invitations to try new things and to open ourselves to new ideas about who we are. I am truly honored to have been part of Leah’s creative journey.

As I write this post, another story from last year quietly makes its way back into my life.

I originally planned to include this story in my third book, but by the time I remembered it, it was too late. I assumed it would slowly fade into the shadows.

But life had other plans.

A few days ago, I received an email from one of my coworkers at Winter Park. Curious, I picked up the phone and called. I wanted to understand why I had received a thank-you card with a generous tip inside — especially a year later.

I was puzzled. Why would someone want to thank me after all this time?

Well…

It was about the ring.

Here is a story about a ring, about not giving up, and about doing your best — even when time is running out.

Let us return to April 28, 2025, at 3:30 PM. The last day of Lost and Found for the season. The very last hour.

Something was tugging at my heart, and I could not let it go.

A few days earlier, a man had come in holding a gold ring. He was searching for the person who had lost it. He wanted to return it himself, directly into the owner’s hands.

He said, “I need to do something good for someone. I need to fix a few mistakes in my life, and I would like to go through your list of people who lost items.”

With respect, I told him I could not do that. Protecting our guests’ privacy is essential. But I also promised him that I would personally go through all the blue Lost and Found forms from the beginning of the season and look for a report that might match the ring.

I told him I would call him no matter what I found.

I pulled all the blue forms from the start of the season and brought them to my desk. I searched carefully for any lost ring reports.

There were several.

None of them matched.

I often return to the jewelry drawer to familiarize myself with what we have. Not all lost items arrive when I am present, and it is impossible to remember every detail. Jewelry matters — not only for its material value, but for its emotional weight and the memories it carries.

I returned the forms to the shelves and left the man a message, apologizing that I could not find a match. Then I went about my day

.

Last day. Last hour.

Truly the final hour before the season closed and all remaining items would be sent away forever.

Something still did not feel right.

I went back to the jewelry drawer and opened it again. I looked slowly, item by item, searching for a ring that suddenly came back into my awareness — one I believed might match a report I had seen days earlier.

And then…

Bingo.

I could not believe it.

It was the largest, most beautiful, and probably most valuable ring we had in the Lost and Found.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the form. A man answered and said, “No way… Winter Park Resort? Do not tell me you found it.”

I replied, “Sir, good afternoon. I may have something here that belongs to you.”

The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

Before confirming anything, I asked him to identify the ring. There was a very specific engraving inside — something only the owner would know.

Without hesitation, he described it perfectly.

He was overwhelmed with gratitude.

He shared that just before his trip, he had the ring appraised. Its value was $10,000.

I told him, “Sir, you just made my day. I am so happy to reunite you with your ring.”

Some stories need time before they are ready to be told.

The lesson I carry from this one is simple:

Never give up when searching for a treasure.