Though living in Canada for the last year has been magical in many ways, there’s also been plenty of loss, regrets, and painful growing experiences. I know that moving here was pretty spontaneous in the first place, but here’s why it happened and how it turned out for this little Texan.
In late 2018, I decided to move to Canada with Chelsey, my dear cousin adventure buddy, to shake up the comfortable norm I had built for myself in Texas over the years. Why Canada? We have lots of extended family in Manitoba, so we thought it was a great idea to move away from our immediate families to a place not so foreign, but still foreign enough to force our independent growth.
So after an epic trip to Japan and Korea, I moved to Canada and began my first official solo life with Chelsey. The idea, in summary, was that in order to grow spiritually and independently, we had to get uncomfortable. The discomfort encouraged great growth, and with great growth came great growing pains.
Adulting for basically the first time all on my own, and now being about 2,300 kilometres (or 1,400 miles) from home, I discovered adult life was actually a real challenge–surprise, surprise! The first out of many came right at the border between the US and Canada, where I was met with an incredibly difficult immigrations officer. I understand how immigrations works and have been through similar processes throughout my life crossing the border, but this was by far the worst experience I’ve ever had with them. In the wake of her apathy, I met my first moments of my new Canadian life in tears.
When Chelsey and I moved in on November 24th of 2018, we had no jobs to actually pay for rent on this brand new, beautiful (“Babe Cave”) apartment. Interestingly enough, I had one lined up long before arriving, but after the final interview, I was asked to commit at least 2-5 years with them. This was 2 weeks after I just moved across the country into the great unknown future, and now I had to force the unknown to be known for the sake of getting a job to pay rent.
Following my convictions, I told them I couldn’t commit even if I did stay for 2-5 years. I didn’t want my joy of living in Canada to turn into an obligation and a burden. So I didn’t get the job I was relying on, and found myself pretty broke pretty fast.
We applied everywhere, but Chelsey and I were unemployed for at least a month, living off of ramen noodles, mac & cheese, and sitting on the hardwood floors playing the WiiU to pass time while it snowed outside. We had no WiFi and went to the library or cafe all the time just so I could talk with my parents.
Through a pretty unexpected turn of events, probably a tricky Jesus thing, I got a call, then an interview, and ended up being hired for a financial tech company called Rotessa. Hardly anyone’s heard of them, but the world should know how great they are. The people there have become my family! They’ve sharpened me, dare say thickened my skin (looking at you, Rotessa boys), and have tirelessly shown me grace in my wilderness season. My socks have been blessed off by these people, and because of them, I’ve been able to survive the coming hardships that this one year in Canada turned out to be.
Four months after starting my job at Rotessa, my grandma passed away. I can say with full confidence that if moving to Canada so quickly meant I could spend four months visiting my sweet grandma every Sunday, it was worth it. She was so close to my heart that it still breaks as I write just these few words in her memory.
Chelsey and I brought Grandma flowers or treats from Tim Hortons almost every time we came to see her, and we even played her a little Christmas concert in her room–the last Christmas she ever had. I remember while we sang a little off-key to her favorite song Silent Night, she got tears in her eyes. We asked her, “Are you crying, Grandma?” She said, “I don’t know,” because she was too cool to cry or something. She also said she had been praying for her grandchildren to do a Christmas concert for her, and there we were. Playing and singing her amateur Christmas songs in our Santa hats.
I remember the last time I saw Grandma, I had just heard from my mom how she wanted to go home and be with Jesus already (she was 93.) So I asked Grandma if that was true and if she’d like us to pray for that, and she said yes. There was a sort of peace about it, so Chelsey and I prayed with her, and on our way out we told her we loved her and that we’d come again next weekend.
Three days later, I got a call that her health suddenly plummeted and she was on her deathbed. I went to her bedside where she was in a medicated slumber, and when my aunty said Chelsey and I arrived, her eyes flew open for just a second. All I could do was sit there with my guitar and play her songs, and Silent Night, while she passed away.
That night, our prayers from just a few days earlier were answered.
Even though I had just started my job at Rotessa, and I didn’t know my co-workers all that well at the time, they showed up for me at my Grandma’s funeral. I never asked them to–they just did, because they knew she was important to me. They watched me play songs for her one last time, and gave my family flowers which I’ll remember for a lifetime. I can’t ever express with words what that meant to me, or how hard that time of my life was–and honestly, still is. But God had positioned people all around me and my family so that we could make it out okay.
Through the rest of my one year here in Canada, I went through other hardships–none of which matched the intensity of losing my grandma, but nevertheless difficult. I went through a long season of anxiety attacks, very uncharacteristic of me, where my lungs would get so tight I could hardly breathe. With lots of prayer and help, I’ve been able to beat the mental battle and press on.
Another difficult time in this one year was when my sweet old dog back in Texas (whom we had for 14 years) died while I’ve been living in Canada. That silly old dog’s been my buddy for a long, long time and I couldn’t have been home to give him one last pat on his bald tummy. When I return home, I’ll surely feel his overwhelming absence.
Probably not the happiest blog post I’ve written, but these are some of the things I’ve gone through in my one year in Canada. Despite all this, I can say it was still worth it. There’s been wonderful memories made in between the painful ones, like playing that mini Christmas concert for Grandma! I also made new friends, one of whom is joining me on a journey in pursuit of God’s heart for Northeast Asia. Chelsey and I also experienced the graciousness and warmth of our extended family, who have hosted us just because they wanted to time and time again. We were spoiled with tickets to see the Winnipeg Jets, and were rescued when we hit a deer along one of our travels, and I’ll never forget the little adventures I went on with my Canadian friends from ice skating to sampling snacks for dinner at Costco!
God has been with me through all the pain and joy of this last year, and He will still be with me in all the pain and joy of the next. Now it’s time for me to be home for Christmas at last, and then go to YWAM in the wake of the new year.
So this chapter is closing, and I’m deeply saddened to say goodbye to all the people around me, from those I’ve only met this last year, to those I’ve had in my life as long as I’ve lived. These goodbyes never get any easier, even though I’ve had to say it so many times in my life already.
This is my journey in Canada–one year of every feeling, full of friends and family, discouragement and encouragement, pain and growth, and lots of trust in Jesus. Though my adventure here is coming to an end for now, it’s been an important chapter in an important book. So thank you, Canada, for teaching me how to be a better person who can survive in your weather, and also giving me the chance to see God faithfully come through for me time and time again.
Signed,
Allison the Adventurer
