Lost in the Wilderness of Canada
A Journey of Surrender, Self-Discovery, and Divine Intervention
The allure of the open road, the thrill of adventure, the promise of new experiences – these are the siren songs that lure countless wanderers onto the highways and byways of the world. And for us, a family of five with an insatiable thirst for exploration, the call of Canada's vast wilderness proved irresistible. With a trusty RV as our chariot and a spirit of wanderlust as our guide, we embarked on a journey that would challenge our perceptions, test our resilience, and ultimately lead us closer to the divine.
From the outset, this expedition felt different. It wasn't just another road trip, a casual jaunt across familiar landscapes. No, this was a pilgrimage into the unknown, a foray into a foreign land where the familiar comforts of home would be replaced by unfamiliar sights, sounds, and customs. As we crossed the border into Canada, a sense of anticipation mingled with a tinge of apprehension settled over us. Little did we know that this journey would become a transformative odyssey, a pilgrimage of the heart that would challenge our assumptions and deepen our understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.
The first few days in Canada were a whirlwind of awe-inspiring landscapes and charming towns. We marveled at the majestic Rocky Mountains, their snow-capped peaks piercing the azure sky like celestial guardians. We strolled through quaint villages, each with its own unique character and charm. We encountered friendly locals who welcomed us with open arms and warm smiles. But amidst the beauty and hospitality, a subtle unease began to gnaw at me.
Perhaps it was the sheer vastness of the land, the endless stretches of wilderness that dwarfed our RV and made us feel like insignificant specks in the grand scheme of things. Or maybe it was the unfamiliar road signs, their cryptic symbols and metric measurements leaving me feeling like a stranger in a strange land. Whatever the cause, a sense of disorientation began to creep in, like a fog rolling in from the sea, obscuring my vision and clouding my judgment.
As we ventured further north, the feeling intensified. The once-familiar comforts of home – the familiar grocery stores, the recognizable brands, the comforting routines – were replaced by a landscape that seemed alien and unpredictable. The metric system, with its kilometers and liters, felt like a foreign language I was struggling to decipher. Even the currency exchange, with its fluctuating rates and unfamiliar denominations, added to my sense of disorientation. It was as if I had been dropped into a parallel universe, where the rules of the game were different and my usual strategies for navigating life no longer applied. (and yes, I protested mailing my guns before crossing the border.)
The discomfort reached its peak when we found ourselves in a remote campground, surrounded by towering trees and a chorus of unfamiliar birdsong. As darkness fell, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were utterly alone, vulnerable to the whims of nature and the unknown dangers that might lurk in the shadows. The weight of responsibility for my family's safety pressed down on me like a physical burden. What if something happened? How would I protect them in this unfamiliar environment?
It was in that moment of vulnerability that I realized the source of my unease. For as long as I could remember, I had been a control freak, meticulously planning every aspect of my life and clinging to the illusion that I could somehow control the uncontrollable. But here, in the heart of the Canadian wilderness, I was being forced to confront the limits of my power. I was being stripped of my illusions and confronted with the stark reality of my own vulnerability.
It was a humbling experience, to say the least. But it was also a necessary one. For in that moment of surrender, I began to see things in a new light. I realized that my obsession with control had been a way of shielding myself from the fear of the unknown, the fear of losing what I held dear. But by clinging so tightly to control, I had also closed myself off to the possibility of growth, of embracing the unexpected, of trusting in a power greater than myself.
As I sat outside, gazing up at the star-studded sky, a sense of peace began to wash over me. I realized that even though I couldn't control everything, I could still choose how to respond to the challenges that life threw my way. I could choose to embrace the unknown, to trust in the divine plan, to let go of my fear and open myself up to the possibilities that lay before me.
In the days that followed, I made a conscious effort to surrender to the flow of the journey. I stopped obsessing over the details, stopped trying to force things to fit into my preconceived notions of how they should be. I simply allowed myself to be present in each moment, to experience the beauty and wonder of this new land without judgment or expectation.
And you know what? It was liberating. By letting go of my need for control, I opened myself up to a whole new world of possibilities. I discovered hidden gems that I would have missed if I had been too focused on sticking to my itinerary. I met fascinating people who challenged my assumptions and expanded my horizons. I learned to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, like a warm cup of coffee on a chilly morning or a breathtaking sunset over a pristine lake.
As we continued our journey through Canada, I found myself drawn to the story of Hosea, a prophet in the Old Testament whose tumultuous marriage served as an allegory for God's unconditional love and forgiveness towards his people. Just as Hosea's wife had strayed from their marriage covenant, so too had the Israelites strayed from their covenant with God. But just as Hosea remained faithful to his wife, so too did God remain faithful to his people, even in the face of their infidelity.
The story of Hosea resonated with me on a deep level. Like the Israelites, I had often strayed from my own covenant with God, chasing after my own desires and neglecting my spiritual well-being. But through this journey, I was being reminded of God's unwavering love and forgiveness, his willingness to meet me where I was and guide me back to the path of righteousness.
As I reflected on the story of Hosea, I realized that my own journey of surrender was not just about letting go of control, it was about surrendering to God's will for my life. It was about trusting that He had a plan for me, even when that plan led me into unfamiliar territory. It was about embracing the challenges and setbacks as opportunities for growth, knowing that God would never leave me nor forsake me.
Our Canadian adventure continued, and with each passing day, I felt myself growing more comfortable in my own skin, more at peace with the unknown. I learned to appreciate the beauty of the Canadian wilderness, to marvel at its vastness and diversity. I discovered the joy of slowing down, of savoring each moment, of appreciating the simple pleasures of life. And I learned to trust in God's guidance, even when the path ahead seemed uncertain.
As we prepared to cross back into the United States, I felt a sense of gratitude for the experiences we had shared and the lessons we had learned. Canada had been more than just a destination; it had been a crucible, a place where our faith had been tested and our spirits refined. We had come seeking adventure, but we had found so much more. We had found a deeper connection to ourselves, to each other, and to the divine.
Looking back on our journey, I realize that it was never about conquering Canada, or about proving our resilience in the face of adversity. It was about surrendering to the unknown, embracing the unexpected, and trusting in God's plan for our lives. It was about discovering that true strength comes not from control, but from surrender. And it was about finding our way back to ourselves, to the essence of who we are, in the heart of the wilderness.
So, if you ever find yourself feeling lost or overwhelmed by life's challenges, remember this: It's okay to not have all the answers. It's okay to feel vulnerable and unsure of yourself. In fact, those moments of vulnerability can be the most fertile ground for growth and transformation. Let go of your need for control, embrace the unknown, and trust that God is guiding your every step. You may be surprised at where the journey leads you.
