If Jesus can do it at 30, I can do it at 26.

Photo credit: Adriana Durian Photography

As I prepare for my baptism on Easter Sunday, Pastor Loren Stark asked me to share the story of how I came to faith with my church last Sunday. The following is my testimony.

My journey into faith began when I walked through the doors of L’Arche Greater Vancouver in the fall of 2008.

Growing up in Ottawa, as a baby I was christened in the Anglican Church. By the time I was old enough to know what was going on, my family had long since stopped attending church.

My eldest sister Margaret, who has a developmental disability, would throw herself into a vocally and physically violent temper tantrum at the sound of traditional hymns being sung. Any “sad” sounding music like hymns accompanied by an organ, or slow songs like Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On,” would cause such emotional responses.

In any case, her behaviour would so disrupt the congregation that it became difficult to stay. When my parents separated and later divorced when I was four years old, the struggle they faced as single parents made looking after three young children plus calming down a fourth temper-tantruming child was too much. So, I grew up in a family that shared Christian values but was non-churched.

Your gift at work at Bible Vacation Camp

In preparing for my experience with Living Water Community, I asked friends and family to consider making a financial contribution towards the summer camp that I would volunteer at in Soufriere, St. Lucia. The months leading to my departure were filled with blessings in my mailbox and my inbox. The loving support has done some wonderful good at Living Water Community’s Bible Vacation Camp.

It was a busy and happily attended two week camp. In the first week 40 children aged 5-8 filled the hall. In the second we received 65 children aged 9-12. In all 105 children attended the camp. They kept us going all day long! In addition to Lisa and Roger, the two sisters of Living Water Community and myself, we had the help of six members of the Soufriere Youth Group and Young Adults.

Your gift helped finance 525 craft activities, 50 award prizes, 20 plastic lawn chairs, 525 lunches, and dishwash, handwash and other cleaning detergents.

Everyday the Living Water Community missionaries taught a biblical story and an accompanying craft activity. The children used buckets of crayons to colour paper cut-out Jesuses, bags of cotton to imitate the wool of a lamb, tubes upon tubes of white glue to paste it all together… They made paper bag and construction paper puppets, hanging banners, chariots, caves… All excitedly. “Mees! Like this?” “Mess! Do you like mine?” “Mees! Pass by us!” (meaning, come sit and assist us with the activity).

Craft of Balaam and his goat.

"I am the Good Shepherd" banner.

The gift of being the stranger

I am two days away from ending my journey with Living Water Community. I have spent the last several days struggling to put into words the transformation I have experienced.

I have not prayed as fervently in St. Lucia as I did in Trinidad, not because I am not close to God but because I am giving of myself differently here. When I was in Trinidad I was far more contemplative and introverted. Despite the pace of life there – it was constantly busy – my volunteering happened quietly. My befriending of God also happened quietly.

In St. Lucia it is very different. Taking a faith journey at a children’s camp can be distracting, especially when feeling exhausted from a day of assertive crowd control. Where I found peace in silence, God is challenging me to find peace in the excitement of children. I am learning that God is as much a part of noise as He is of quiet.

This lesson is possibly the most important I can take with me back to Canada. God is helping me see faith in the everyday. The truth is that this journey happened outside of my reality. Everything but my relationship with God is foreign and I, the foreigner.

For six weeks I have been seeking God in Trinidad & Tobago and St. Lucia but I call neither country my home. I have been living in a Catholic religious community but I am not Catholic. I am not even confirmed in my own denomination.

I have learned from people who welcomed me, the stranger, into their lives knowing our paths may never again meet. Through them I have experienced the blessing of a life in relationship with God. God is so awesome and so humble that He chose for me to learn about Him by pulling me out of my “reality.” He has blessed me with the gift of being the stranger.

As much as I am grateful for the journey, I cannot begin to tell you how much I’m looking forward to coming home. The next part of my journey (because it’s not over yet) will be finding a place of spiritual belonging. I know God will guide me there.

From the shoreline to the skyline: a weekend in St. Lucia

At the top of the Gros Piton. It's twin, the Petit Piton, in the background.

You can’t live in Vancouver and not be drawn to hiking the Gros Piton. It is the bigger of the Twin Pitons, St. Lucia’s two “volcanic plug” mountains. The Gros Piton is 2,619 ft at top elevation. Grouse Mountain, on Vancouver’s North Shore, is about twice the size. The average ascent time for the Gros Piton is two hours. The trail is quite rugged and steep, and requires a guide because, save for a few sections of railing, the trail is not ear marked. For my final weekend in St. Lucia (and in the Caribbean for that matter) myself and Roger, Lisa’s husband, agreed to a 7am climb, early to avoid the heat of the day.

It so happens that I have come to the Caribbean at the height of Hurricane season. When it rains in comes down in heavy pelts that soak you in two minutes and flood the streets. It causes the river to rise and force its way towards the sea. Friday night it rained so badly the heavy water took out a bridge and caused a mud slide. Roger and I left early Saturday morning, hopeful the rain hadn’t made the trail along the Gros Piton dangerous.

Luckily when we arrived the guide seemed confident we could make it. He took us through the village of Fond Gens Libre, whose name means “valley of the free people.” During the slave rebellion of 1748, Brigands, or black freedom fighters, built a settlement at the foot of the Gros Piton as a secure haven. The Gros Piton trail was originally used by banana and mangos farmers who grew their crop at the top of the mountain. At the time it was the only safe place for run away slaves to grow food.

Field trip to Morne Coubaril Estate

Living Water Community Bible Camp campers aged 5-8 (though some were 4 and 9).

As a special treat for the last day of camp Living Water Community took the children (and the helpers!) on a field trip to Morne Coubaril Estate. It’s been nearly a decade since my last field trip, so I thoroughly looked forward to it.

Built by a French family in the late 17th century Morne Coubaril Estate used to be a fully functioning cocoa and sugar cane plantation. The family restored some of the old machinery and slaves’ quarters to create a living museum for tourists and curious locals.

The two girls who held my arms captive on our outing. Beside the slaves' quarters.

I was given charge of the first bus load. There are no yellow school buses in Soufriere, so we divided the group in half and took two 25 seater van-bus-thingys to Morne Coubaril Estate, a quick 10 minute drive up the mountain side. In my group were four of Soufriere’s Young Adults and myself, with 20 children.

When I began this week I spoke Canadian. By the end I’d adopted some key Lucian-Trini-Carib wordage to more effectively communicate with the children. These include “Eh eh eh!” (not the soft “eh” of Canada but a forceful “eh” that has no “a” sound) meaning “Stop!” and “We good?” meaning anything from “Please sit down” to “Behave yourself.”

Mees! You got a lotta meat!

Children helping me at the registration table.

I am two days into Living Water Community children’s bible camp and feeling only slightly the wiser! Like most children aged 5 to 8, the campers are excitable, noisy and full of energy. They are kind to each other and helpful. Yet they are very different from Canadian children who, in general, have experienced the nurturing of parents who can afford to provide and an education system that is well-funded.

The town of Soufriere lives in poverty. Some Lucians are fortunate to live in houses with running water, most are fortunate to have a roof above their heads. Ramshackle houses, no toilet, fowl living in the same place as children… Against the backdrop of the lush Twin Pitons and the Caribbean sea, it is unlike anything I have ever seen. Knowing that this is where some of these children come from is both heartbreaking and deeply moving. With so little, they still smile so big.

The children and I look on as others finish out a game of musical chairs.

On the first day the children were rambunctious. It was a day for all of us to settle into one another and the rhythm of the camp. Today they were a little more subdued though the hot sun helped… We all move a little slower when it’s hot. The kids were less apprehensive around me and I around them, so this morning a few of the older ones helped me with registration, attendance and name tags.

Back in Soufriere

The house I am calling home for the next two weeks in Soufriere, St. Lucia.

Have you ever heard of an ice cream truck that plays Christmas carols all year? The one that passed by the house I am living at does. It’s the familiar jingle of an ice cream truck except to the tune of “Santa Claus is coming to town” and other silly carols.

We were at the end of lunch when the red van turned the corner and slowed to see if we were interested in a cone or two. I chose vanilla and pistachio swirl though it tasted more like marzipan. I am told this particular ice cream vendor gives a good amount of ice cream for the price but not to trust the flavours…

This morning’s mass was Baptism Sunday at the Church of the Assumption, the Catholic Cathedral. I witnessed six baptisms and one first holy communion. Sunday Mass is very important to those who live in Soufriere. They wear their very best – colourful dresses, pressed hats, shiny shoes, dress shirts… And mass itself is long. Two hours. My housemates joked that a priest normally makes one homily. Soufriere’s makes three.