Yesterday we’d hoped to be driving out of Canada. Instead, we are adjusting to the reality of a three-day delay in our truck repairs. Rather than searching for a place in Michigan to boondock for the night, we are in the unexpected position of attending Canada’s 150th anniversary celebration.
Today, July 1st, is Canada Day. Our RV neighbors sit outside sipping on beer with a Canadian flag emblazoned on the can while wearing red t-shirts with a large white maple leaf in the center. An “I Am Canadian” flag proudly stretches across the back of their RV. Fifty feet away, the juxtaposition* of our Idaho license plates make us the obvious imposters in the group.
Continue reading “our true home | celebrating Canada Day”
Our truck’s old engine is out and the replacement is ready to go in. Mr. Mechanic is hard on the job. We are left playing the waiting game.
A sunny forecast beckons us to pass the time outside. I pack a lunch, the kids change into swimming suits, and we all climb in the van. Continue reading “faith escarpment | Hamilton, Ontario”
It’s morning. The day after the roadside storm that ended with our truck in the shop and us in an unexpected place of surrender.
Before my eyes adjust to the light streaming through my bedside window, I hear the birds. They are happy, flamboyant, carefree. Their jovial song serves as a strong reminder:
“Look at the birds of the air: They do not sow or reap or gather into barns—and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his lifespan?…Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:26-27, 2”
The truth is stronger than morning coffee. Thus my day begins with this simple prayer, “Lord, instead of worry, today I choose to trust in You. Remind me of that choice should I waver.”
Continue reading “i choose to trust | lessons in faith”
Just West of Lake Ontario, our hazard lights blink-blink-blink as the freeway traffic rushes past us, sending the vehicles into small sideways rocking motions. The truck, whose engine has been whispering notions of discontent for the past few hundred miles, has acted like a toddler and erupted into a full-blown tantrum. We are perched like birds on the shoulder of the road.
Continue reading “sitting in quiet surrender | somewhere in Ontario”