We Stand on Guard

Every day, I’m glued to my computer watching livestreams, video clips, and commentary from the Trucker Convoy in Ottawa. “Freedom! Freedom! We want freedom!” my 7-year-old chants this morning after watching a short update from The Crackpot Farmer. Especially these … Continue reading


Four years ago, we landed on Wolfe Island. With every intention of staying forever, I set about finding a house to buy. That turned out to be more complex than expected. With determination and perseverance, ten months later we moved into what ended up being the perfect house.

I planted flowers – so many flowers – and fruit and nut trees. I put in raspberry patches and a medicinal tea garden. We got a lot of chicken. We were going to stay here forever.

Then things changed. A pandemic swept across the globe. Everything changed. The world around me became very different. That’s true for everyone. As life has evolved, I realized this might not be the spot for us anymore.

In April, my mother, who lives with us, went to Calgary to care for my brother who was having a brain tumor removed.

Once there, she suggested to me, “You should come out here.”

It’s the same call my sister gave that brought us to Wolfe Island. When she said it, something in my heart leaped. That’s how we got here. Intuition. Heart. Holy Spirit leading. When my mother spoke, it was the same. Something in me said, “Yes.”

So, we’re heading west.

The plan is to pack a U-Haul up on October 20 and head out on the 21st.

A large part of my dream in coming to Wolfe Island was the establishment of some sort of intentional community. That has yet to come to pass.

The spot I’ve selected in Alberta shows promise for this opportunity. I’m working on buying a little country motel about an hour south of Calgary. My mother and I will live there. And there will be room for others. I’m not entirely sure what shape this dream will hold once it’s finally birthed, but this spot looks like the right one.

Of course, there are significant complications. Turns out getting a mortgage for a motel is absolutely impossible. Even though I have a steady income to cover everything, no lenders will consider the venture. The closing date is looming – October 27 – without a clear financial plan (let me know if you have any ideas on bridge financing until the sale of my house wraps up.)

This might be the most non-sensical thing I’ve ever done. Everything about it feels right. With a long history of the impossible coming to pass in my life, I have a, perhaps misguided, sense of confidence that this will work. I just don’t know how.

But we’re packing up and saying goodbye to the exceptional island that has been home. It’s equally sad and exciting. This place and the people here have been a wonderful gift to our family.

As we did a little over four years ago, we’re heading out into something completely unknown knowing that God has prepared a place for us.


In my closet hang two track suits. Those who knew me, in my in my pre-island life, will be surprised to know they are what I end up wearing out in public when that rare task occurs.

Between the ages of 30-40, I owned one pair of track pants. Bought for a road trip to NYC because I thought that’s what I ought to wear, I don’t think I was ever again seen in public wearing them.

Where we live can change us.

I’m not the person I was.

There’s nothing positive or negative about that statement. I have no moral stance on the wearing of track pants or even track suits. It’s just not something I used to do and now it is.

The season of life we’re in can dictate what we do. In three years of living where I do, I’ve yet to paint all the walls. In three years of living in my previous house, I completely redecorated at least three times – changing wall colours, furniture, curtains, pictures, etc.

In many ways where we live and the season we’re in shape us.

Prior to the launch of 2020, there was so much hype around it being a new decade – a new era. None of could predict how much of a shift would come.

Everyone one of us is living in a new place and a new season. Though our houses may remain physically the same, what life looks like inside of them is radically different. Though it is currently summer, as it is every year at this time, what life looks like is radically different.

We are now in year two of a global pandemic.

Did you imagine it would go on this long?

Those two weeks the government of Canada asked for in March of 2020 have turned into 15 months. Restrictions and regulations remain in place for Ontario. I’m not saying anything for against that – though I do have my own thoughts on the matter. I’m simply saying, we’re still here.

And every one of us is continuing to be changed or shaped to varying degrees by the era we’re in.

Whatever we think of the government’s decisions, it’s hard not to grow weary. Trying to keep up with the ever evolving rules and changing dates, can crowd out any other thoughts or impede our ability to see a bigger picture.

A devoted mother I was speaking to said, “I just can’t think about what the masks and social distancing are doing to my kids. I just need to figure out how to get through this and back to normal life.”

In many ways, we’re collectively holding our breath waiting for this pandemic to pass by. Time to take a deep breath. This season we’re in isn’t going to be short lived. Especially in Ontario, there’s no end in sight.

The good news is we’ve survived thus far. Seriously, you’ve survived a global pandemic. Pretty much everyone you know is still alive. That’s good news. Let it sink in for a few minutes.

Now, where are you and who have you become?