My First Inset Into The Roots and Wings Newsletter

Roots and Wings is a newsletter that our church publishes 3-4 times a year. This newsletter is a way of keeping everyone informed about what goes on at Burns Presbyterian Church, especially those in our community that can no longer join us. It's also a way to share our life experiences with the congregation.

Derick and I have only been at our church for two years, and through the Roots and Wings newsletter, we were able to look inside the history as well as the life and work of the people at Burns.

In Dec, Rev. Charlotte asked me to consider writing an article for Roots and Wings, which was to be published around Easter. Upon much consideration and prayer, I casted my fear aside and humbly accepted. Below is my first public inset into this newsletter.

                                                      The Bread Maker  

My mother made bread daily growing up. Not only was it a stable for our diet, but the cheapest, practical way to feed our large family of fourteen. 

I am sure many of us can relate to fond memories of our mothers and grandmothers homemade bread. One of my favourite memories, as a child, was coming home from school to the house filled with the aroma of Mom’s fresh-baked bread. I would slump onto the couch, and eagerly await for her to slather a thick slice with molasses. It was mouth-watering to say the least.

At the age of ten, Mom taught me how to make bread. It was a wonderful bonding time, as she gladly took me under her wing to demonstrate the rhythm required in working and kneading the dough. And without a recipe, just a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that, she took a large pan of flour and transformed it into a big doughboy. I was in awe as I watched her soft hands, which never seemed to tire, knead and fold the dough to perfection.

When the process was completed, Mom gave the doughboy a big slap. “Why did you slap it?” I asked. “For good luck!”she replied with a smile. I could tell by the glint in her eye that she was proud I wanted to learn the art of bread making at such a young age. 

But just as we need bread to nourish our physical bodies, we also need Christ, the true bread of life, to nourish our souls. He is the antidote, the staple in our faith walk, and the Bread that holds us All together. With His gentle hands, He kneads and transforms the finest ingredients into our lives, making us unique individuals for His purpose. 

As we celebrate Christ’s Resurrection this Easter and the upcoming 180th Anniversary of Burns Presbyterian Church, we need to also remember the trail blazers, both past and present, because they were and are the bread markers for Christ. Without them, the message of the true bread of life would go stale, and His church would falter. 

A Memorable Mountain Climb

Derick and I were born and raised in Newfoundland, Canada. We now live in Ontario, where we have raised our two children.

When our children were young, we took several trips back to our homeland. We not only wanted them to see family that still resided there but to also witness the beauty of this vast, island province.

On this one particular visit our family, as well as my father and mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and her two children took a camping trip to Gros Morne Park. It's the largest and most spectacular National Park in eastern Canada. And the scenery is breathtaking. 

Upon arriving at our campsite, we couldn't help but notice this mountainous, panoramic view starring down at us. Over the years, we had heard a lot about the must-do trip up the mountain, and now, we were left wondering if we could take on this difficult challenge.

It would be no easy stroll. The mountain is 806 meters above sea level. And depending on your pace, the hike would be anywhere from 4-6 hours from the base of the mountain and back down again. Encountering climatic changes, such as dropping temperatures and gusting winds, would also be a factor. But after much pondering and researching, on a beautiful clear morning, with two lightly packed backpacks, good footwear, and proper clothing, my husband and I, our two children, as well as my sister-in-law and her two children set out to embark on, what we would come to know, as one of the most beautiful and difficult adventures of a lifetime.

The first stage of our journey consisted of a 4 km hike into the base of the mountain, which took approximately 45 minutes. At one point, my sister-in-law and I had reservations about the bigger challenge that lay ahead of us as this relentless, forested path, of treacherous hills and turns, left our pounding hearts racing as if we were competing in a marathon. But in the distance, the mountain view intrigued and inspired us to keep going.

Heading to the base of the mountain.

Me and Sis taking a rest.

The view from the base of the mountain.

When we arrived at the base of the mountain, we diligently filled our tummy's with food and water. Sitting on a bench and enjoying the much needed break, we could see a cluster of small ponds. And in the distance, we witnessed the slope of the mountain as well as some sheer rocks and jagged peaks.    Even though the above scene may not look rigorous or intimidating, it proved to be otherwise. We literally were crawling on our hands and knees, until we reached the summit. The sign at the fork in the path that said: “ DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE MOUNTAIN,” we soon came to discover the clear indication as to why. 

Cousins in awe of the snow.

Yes, snow in August!

Being young and resilient, the kids would rush ahead of us, but they were never allowed out of our sight. The mountain was known for its thick, grey fog, which appeared out of nowhere, so we wanted to make sure safety was in tack, and we followed the labelled, trail markers.

Photo shoot with the best guide in the world :)

Another rest break for Me and Sis.

With our painful, stretched calves, and feeling light headed from the pristine mountain air, Sis and I longed for rest stops, and a pick-me-up of beef jerky and water. Sitting on the rocks, with the cool breeze brushing against our face, we felt so refreshed. But we knew it had to be short-lived if we were to reach the summit, and arrive back to our campsite before dark

After two hours of sheer climbing, we would reach the summit. We were in awe!  It felt like we were on another planet. The view was breathtaking. The mountain was surprisingly flat with snow patches. The air was crisp, with some rain, wind, and fog. There were also grassy meadows of low, grown plants that grew bake-apples, which are known for their delicious jams and pies in Newfoundland.

Yes! We reached the summit!

Bake-apple

Before our descend down the mountain, we hung out and took pictures and had a much needed lunch and water break.  And we even had a snowball fight! 

The steep trail had us on a steady march for part of the climb down, so it was important everyone concentrated on the task at hand, and stayed within the guidelines, for safety. Again, the beauty was breathtaking. 

We stopped for a few minutes to admire a primitive campground, which was surrounded around a tiny lake, and used for overnight hikers. As we were admiring the view, out of nowhere, a mountain shower came upon us. It left us looking like a bunch of drown rats, and chilly, for the rest of the hike down.



The primitive campground.

Drown rats! Tired, cold, and hungry.

The mountain after our hike.

Before starting our 4km hike back to our vehicle, we took a much needed rest break. As we sat reminiscing about our mountain climb accomplishment, and Ma’s home cooked meal that awaited us back at the campsite, we decided to take one last look up at the mountain. And when we did, our mouths feel open. It had become encompassed with a thick, grey fog, which the mountain is well known for. We felt ever so grateful to be back down safely. 

I feel incredibly blessed for this memorable, family adventure. Our children still talk about it and hopes to return to the mountain one day. As for Derick and me, maybe in a helicopter! :)