Today I was driving back to Wolfville after a little jaunt to one of the teensy communities along the shore.
If you've ever driven westbound on Highway 101, you will know what I am talking about when I talk about that hill, somewhere around Avonport. You know, that hill that you crest and all of the sudden, you see the panorama of the Bay and of Cape Blomidon. It's like the whole Valley is suddenly right in front of you, and the best part is the view is different every time: when the tide is in, all you notice are the various hues of blue. When it is out, shades of brown dominate. If it is a sunny day and the rays hit the Blomidon just right, you can see every detail. When it is foggy, the end of the Cape is obscured. It is a different view in all seasons: hopeful in spring; vibrant in summer; bright in autumn; and stark in winter.
I love that view.
To me, that view means: You're almost there!
Every time I crest that hill, I remember how incredibly blessed I am to live in one of the most beautiful corners of the world.
Today as I was alone in Gertrude (my unreliable Kia) on Highway 101, I have to admit I was enjoying some worship music. God never ceases to surprise me in the places He shows up in my life, and even though I was all by myself (unless you count the cold donair in my passenger seat), I was having a really meaningful worship experience.
As little Gertrude climbed the hill, I was singing along to this song: It is called "Nothing I Hold Onto (Climb)".
Now you should know, I have been very uncertain lately about my life. In short, I do not know what I will do. It's not just that I do not know what to do with my life, it's also that I have no idea where I will be this summer and fall. In fact, I am not entirely sure where I will be next month. I like knowing what to expect. And right now, I have NO idea what to expect.
But, happily for me, God is present everywhere, even in rusty old Kias on salty old highways. I looked and saw Cape Blomidon, which is an amazing natural formation. I saw the Bay, the Bay with the world's highest tides, tons of water in and out each day. And I heard "My life is in the hands of the Maker of heaven."
My life is in the hands of the Maker of heaven. He who made Cape Blomidon, the Bay of Fundy, the apple trees, the individual snowflakes: he made me. And he made this life to be as beautiful and as exquisite as these natural wonders that I love. I drove towards Wolfville with an overwhelming feeling of peace about this fact. And there just happened to be a spectacular sunset as well :)
This caused me to further reflect on the first time I remember cresting that hill and seeing that view. I must have been about ten years old, and it was on the way to the Atlantic Theatre Festival to see a play called The Miracle Worker. The Miracle Worker is a play based on the life of Annie Sullivan, who was Helen Keller's teacher. Annie Sullivan, through perseverance and creativity, gave Helen Keller access to the world through a special sort of sign language.
When I was very small, my Grammy Main would read to us. ALWAYS. And my favourite book was a book about Helen Keller. So when the Atlantic Theatre Festival had a showing of The Miracle Worker, Grammy was sure to invite me. Because it was our special thing. Some of my aunts and uncles came as well: but I was the only kid, and this made me feel special and grown-up. Grammy Main died last year, and this is just one of the many things that made her very dear to me.
I think it is appropriate that the first time I remember coming to Wolfville was to see a play called The Miracle Worker. As far as I can tell, my time here is soon ending. I don't know how many more times I will come over that hill before Exit 10. And the view changes every time. But one thing never changes: God is good. I have been shown God's goodness hundreds of times and hundreds of ways here at Acadia. He is the true Miracle Worker.
