#18 Parc National Frontenac, QC: Easy to Forgive

I was having an inner struggle to end an otherwise fantastic first day in Quebec.  As we traveled through the eastern townships I was loving the rustic old barns and stone houses. I was doing just fine figuring out the French signs.  I had followed the debate a few years ago when the province forbade English on signage but I was good with that.  I understood Quebec's desire to protect their language and culture.  But now, as we approached Parc National Frontenac, I was starting to get a little irritated.

There are a lot of English-speaking people across Canada, including me, who pay taxes for the National Parks.  They are a Canadian thing - not a Quebec thing.  Surely they could give us directions on how to get there in both languages.  And was it my imagination or did the guy at the desk seem a little grumpy at being forced to answer my questions in his halting English?  Now I was starting to see scowls on everyone's faces.  And where was the beaver symbol that you always see on National Parks literature?

I started doing the math, and realized I had been duped. This wasn't a national park at all!  It was only one of their provincial parks - a very beautiful one granted - but I'm guessing Quebec calls them that because of the separatist movement's desire for nationhood.  Just like calling their provincial legislature The National Assembly.  This hurt me because I have such a deep desire for unity within Canada.  That's what we're praying for on this journey!

Ironically, the beginning of this day had been one of the richest of our entire trip.  We had found a little countryside church and they had given us the warmest of welcomes.  Any language barrier was more than compensated for by a deep oneness of spirit. Instant family.  After church they had come out en masse to sign our banner with French blessings and scriptures.  Patty and I had driven away thinking that this encounter was one of the hilights of our whole journey.  But now I was struggling.

As I sat with my Heavenly Father on a rock beside a calm, shining lake the next morning, I told him about my burden.  And then, not surprisingly, He surprised me.  He said it wasn't a burden at all.  It was an opportunity that He had designed.  An opportunity to forgive.  It was an answer to my prayer!  I already knew that forgiveness is a powerful key to open up rusty old doors and let a fresh breeze in.  Now I had a chance to turn the key.  So I did.  Every time I would sense the irritation start to re-surface I cut if off with forgiveness.  And a blessing.  Was it just my imagination or did everyone start smiling at me and wishing me 'bonjour' instead of the scowls of yesterday?



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