As a young lass in our little country school, I learned early to respect and love my country, Canada.
In front of the unfurled flag, we made our simple pledge of allegiance.
Standing tall, we would place our right hand over our heart and repeat, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of Canada and to the country for which it stands, one nation under God, with freedom and liberty for all.”
We reverently sang O Canada, while standing at attention, as serious as though we were singing a christian anthem.
I often poured over our thick geography book as one picture in particular grabbed my attention. I was fascinated to see a cedar tree so huge, a car was able to back inside its trunk!
Never did I dream I would one day see “that tree” for real in Stanley Park, and that beautiful city,Vancouver, so far away, would become my home.
Choosing to live the opposite end of our country, yet wanting to keep in touch with family, would mean many trips across our fair land. My first trip, no doubt, was my most memorable.
Awakened to a click-clacking sound that resembled train wheels as well as constant swaying of my bed, I opened my eyes.
Ever so slowly, I became aware that indeed, I was aboard a Canadian Pacific Railway train heading west.
Beside me was Nels, my new husband of two short weeks.
I remembered I had faithfully promised to share my whole life with him, wherever it might take us.
Right now, it was taking us on our first journey to the home awaiting us in Vancouver.
Having left my home province of New Brunswick, with five days of rail travel covering over 4,000 miles to our destination, I felt as though I might as well be moving to China.
Saying goodbye to our province, on into Quebec, following the St, Lawrence River, passing through Ontario and the Great Lakes, we were awed at the vast expanse of our immense country.
The quaint farms of Ontario and Quebec, ebbed and flowed past our window, as we made our steady migration west.
The Canadian Rocky Mountains might have deterred early pioneers, but then, the rail line opened the way for thousands of immigrants from Europe to begin new lives in the Prairies and the West.
Now it was carrying me to my new life. In a way, I felt much like an immigrant as well.
Enjoying the unfolding beauty of each province, the golden sea of flat wheat fields of Saskatchewan, mesmerized me.
Crossing into Alberta, the sea of wheat was replaced by an ocean of cattle and oil derricks.
As our train reached its destination at the main terminal in Vancouver that late August afternoon, who would have thought that this city would become my home for the next 40 years?
Our next journey, from the West to the East was the during the summer of ’55 — a somewhat challenging road trip it turned out to be. As Nels' dad was dying of cancer, a visit to see him seemed imperative. Our newly-bought 1952 Chevrolet seemed to be the answer for our mode of travel.
It was not until September 3, 1962, that then Prime Minister John Diefenbaker officially opened the Trans-Canada Highway at a ceremony in Rogers Pass, B.C.
The highway which stretches 7,821 kilometres between St. Johns, Nfld., and Victoria, B.C. was in fact completed in 1971. Adding several alternative routes brought its total length to 12,800 kilometres of pavement.
No matter which route you take or how much time you spend on the highway — you’ll never come across its end as both St. John’s and Victoria each claim the prestige of being mile zero of the world’s longest road.
Our great Canada, so versatile in its beauty, is a home we can be proud of.
As many red and white flags will be flying this July 1st. celebrating our Canada's 150th birthday, may our prayer be that…"His rule will extend from sea to sea."
— Zechariah 9:10
— beulah
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