I woke up groggily to the sound of rain hammering on the sloping roof of our bedroom and grudgingly hauled myself out of bed. Whose idea was it to meet at A Rocha at 7 am to pack up the vehicles and discuss the days ahead before making it to the 10 am ferry to Galiano Island? The past few days had been a blur of presentations, frantic food preparation, late night cake baking and packing, and I was tired and in no mood for an adventure. As I helped pack the trucks in the steady rain I couldn't help but be reminded of the start of my last visit to Galiano Island seven months previously in the middle of a fierce storm. I'd been similarly tired and damp and inwardly unenthusiastic following the brilliant but insanely wet Run for the River and a busy time settling into life in Canada. But I also remembered how much I'd loved that trip and, having consumed enough tea I was ready for the off!
As I stepped inside Mary-Ruth and Loren Wilkinson's home I felt as though I was greeting an old friend, and I loved watching first time visitors as they relaxed into the place.
After lunch we took a trip down the coast in the boats to find out how the Galiano Conservancy was doing in their efforts to deal with the booming deer population.
|Out for a row in the longboat, eat your heart out boaties!|
|Keeping the rhythm going...|
|The Galiano Conservancy's new deer exclosure.|
|On the beach with Mossy, the Wilkinson's lovely young Collie.|
We had plenty of time to explore and settle in whilst waiting for the those sailing to make it back. The wind had changed whilst we were at the Conservancy, and the team attempting to sail back had found themselves in a precarious position caught by the wind and strong waves which pushed them further from home. Only through patient endurance and no small amount of courage did they manage to start making headway against the wind.
Back at the Wilkinson's, oblivious to the situation of the sailing team, we set about getting dinner ready. But after a while, concerned that our friends seemed to have been out in the boat for a rather long time, we ventured back outside to watch for them.
|Where could they be?|
Before we could get too alarmed, we sighted them in the distance making their way steadily homeward. They arrived back shaken but exhilarated and deeply thankful for their safe delivery from the brewing storm.
The next morning the rain and winds had quietened, leaving a dazzlingly bright spring morning in their place.
|A view of the now peaceful sea.|
|Helping in the vegetable garden.|
|Relaxing with the daisies.|
We enjoyed the beautiful weather and our time working on the boats, sanding, repainting and coating them (and ourselves!) with pine tar and varnish.
|Working on (and under!) the boats.|
|The view from the top in September|
|The view from the top in April|
|The view towards Vancouver Island|
|A time to reflect.|
|'I want to travel in patterns of God's making'|
Whilst we were up on the ridge, one poem I read particularly resonated with me. I had no idea what I would be returning to in the UK. I had patiently explored and applied for a number of different opportunities to study or work, but had not yet heard back from any direction. It was a little unsettling. I remember feeling just the same during my final year of University: nothing lined up and no obvious directions to go in. The same anxieties crept in that perhaps I was never going to find anything to do, that no one would ever give me a job, that I would be a failure, that I should be doing something more conventional with my life.
But since graduation I have faced challenges and illness, homesickness, and the pain of leaving dear friends and family behind in other countries. I have shared tears and laughter, fallen in rivers, fallen off climbing frames, tripped over logs, learned to bake mince pies, evicted hundreds of ladybirds from my bedroom, caught fish and frogs, helped people to see the beauty in nature and the awe in science, searched for flowers, fed wolves, fed a bear, learned the names of countless plants and the calls of countless birds, learned to cook for 40 and cleaned three ovens. I have never once had nothing to do and I certainly don't regret the unconventional decisions.
What have we to fear? With every step we are each called simply to love, serve and follow God; to journey onwards, trusting that He will catch us as we stumble, and protect our hearts as we face trials. Why? Because He loves us, and always will do. He is the Rock, A Rocha, the solid ground upon which we can depend. 'I want to travel in patterns of God's making' and while I do so, I will never be going nowhere with my life.
Sat in metal boxes, eyes ahead,
Always mindful of their target,
Moving in obedience to coloured lights and white lines,
Mission accomplished at journey's end.
Some people travel round in circles:
Trudging in drudgery, eyes looking down,
Knowing only too well their daily, unchanging round,
Moving in response to clock and to habit,
Journey never finished yet never begun.
I want to travel in patterns of God's making:
Walking in wonder, gazing all around,
Knowing my destiny, though not my destination,
Moving to the rhythm of the surging of his spirit,
A journey which when life ends, in Christ has just begun."
- Julie McGuiness