This was our second Easter in Calgary. When we arrived in November 2021, I thought I knew exactly where I wanted to be. There was a little motel for sale that, on paper, looked ideal. It wasn’t.

Though, even if it was, I couldn’t have bought it. My house in Ontario has only JUST sold. It is such a momentous relief to have that done.

However, during our time in Alberta, the housing market has taken a dramatic turn. Listing prices have skyrocket. Though most places aren’t selling, they remain nearly double what I can pay.

I arrived here with high hopes of finding a rural property to settle my family in and start some sort of community. Those goals remain but the question is where?

Where do we belong?

Nearly a year ago, I discovered the Ringing Cedars of Russia books by Vladimir Megre. One of the primary themes in the books is the idea of a Kin’s Domain. This is a parcel of land – usually 2.5 acres – where a family creates a place to nourish their bodies, souls, and spirits. There is a fair bit of talk about ancestral land – the spot where a family has lived for generations as well as selecting a spot where your future generations can live.

That concept is, for the most part, unknown in Canada. When considering our heritage, it’s traced back to a distant land – England, Ireland, Scotland, India, Jamaica, etc – even if our ancestors have been here many generations. It’s expected that we look outside of this place for a connection to land and heritage.

What about our own country? Where do we belong here in Canada?

I’m from Ontario. Born and raised in Hamilton. I lived in a few places in and around Toronto. I lived in Niagara region. Then went to Wolfe Island, by Kingston. Now I’m here in Alberta.

Never did I imagine moving my children around in this manner. But I have. And the journey remains unfinished. We still need to find somewhere to settle.

My grandparents had a lovely little property. As a teenager I dreamed of raising my family there. I wanted to convert the barn into a house for me and my sister could live in the little bungalow. My grandfather had put so much love into the garden. Everything about the place was pristine. And it was, in a way, my ancestral home. Before I was born, my grandparents had a farm. I don’t know how many generations it had been in the family. There were at least two – my grandfather and his parents. My dad was adopted, specifically chosen as the son who would inherit the farm. I don’t know all the details but the farm had been sold before I came along. My dad didn’t really want it. I would have but my grandparents were quite elderly. They couldn’t have kept it going for a grandchild that might never have come along.

As I search for a home, I find it quite sad that the farm and the rural property were sold. Maybe I’m just homesick, but something in me longs for that continuity – a connection to land that spans generations.

I don’t know if I can accomplish it, but I’d like to achieve that for my family. I want a spot that can accommodate them as they grow and, possibly, have families of their own. I want someone to look at trees and say, “My great-grandmother planted that.”

It can be easy to dismiss the significance of this. People move. They go wherever careers or relationships take them. It is widely accepted and expected.

After all, Jesus said, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” (Matthew 8:20) I was conflicted as a child, longing to create a home for the family I would have but Jesus, whom I follow, didn’t have one.

Then there is the focus on ancestral land in the Old Testament of the Bible. God took the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt to give them the land He’d promised to their ancestors.

Then the Lord said to Moses, “Leave this place, you and the people you brought up out of Egypt, and go up to the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, saying, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ ” (Exodus 33:1)

In this world of uncertainty, I am seeking a place to plant my family. I want us to flourish now and in times to come. I want to be where we belong.