#1 A Single Step
Adventures are my thing - not Patty’s. Her perfect holiday is visiting family at the end of a tried and familiar path. I thrill to the unknown. Our common ground is wanting to make our lives worthwhile. To walk by God’s leading. So when I get the idea for an adventure (and this happens regularly), the first litmus test to differentiate between a ‘Terry sparkler’ and ‘Divine calling’ is Patty’s response.
I have learned that a good presentation doesn’t hurt my cause so I picked the setting carefully. The tables at the Pumphouse overlook a century-old collection of giant pipes and pumps – still covered in original grease. These were used to move Red River water to distant hydrants for fire-fighting. A restaurant with a combination of history (my love) and good food (Patty’s). Perfect.
I worked up the courage to start the conversation: “Patty, I have an idea for another journey.” “I’m listening.” That was encouraging so I launched in. We would make a giant prayer loop of Canada in our motorhome. We would travel south from Winnipeg to just before the American border and then turn east. Then riding pavement, gravel, dirt or ferry we’d stick to the border till we got to the Atlantic. Turning north, we’d follow the coast till the eastern tip of North America at Cape Spear, Newfoundland. Crossing over to Labrador by ferry we’d follow the most northern roads possible back to Manitoba. After hugging our kids and loving on our granddaughter, we’d do the western part of the loop. To Tuktoyaktuk on the Arctic, through Prince Rupert and the Pacific seaboard, and then back home along the southern border. On the way we’d pass through every province and territory, all the while praying for God’s touch on our land.
I didn’t even have time to ask “Soooooo Patty, what do you think?” “YES! Let’s do it!” I was pretty sure I had her at ‘motorhome’ because she loves camping in ‘Vincent Van Gogh’ as we call it. If that hadn’t done it, ‘Newfoundland’ might have. She has always wanted to go back. Or maybe seeing her sister Verda in Prince Rupert. So now I got a little nervous. What if I had set it up too well? She hadn’t even stopped to consider that we’d be separated for months on end from one-year-old NoriLori. Or be isolated on long, lonely stretches of northern roads. I couldn’t believe that it was me tapping the brakes: “Before we commit to this thing, I want you to make sure that you are called of God.” Patty agreed. We didn’t have to wait long. A week later she announced, “I believe I’ve heard Him speak.”
And so the journey begins.
