Heidi Turner leads us today on our globalgirl Advent Adventure. I first met with Heidi’s words and heart many years ago through her blog Redemption Junkie. Then, during a holy encounter, several of our online friends got to meet up at Linwood House and actually sit in the same real room for three days and find our Path together. I am so thankful for friendships that can be forged and shaped over time, whether virtually or in close proximity, for a Larger purpose. This story Heidi brings today is so beautiful and full of hope … Thank you, Heidi. You are a beautiful, radiant Light.
From Away
By Heidi Renee Turner
“We’re pretty underwhelming,” the voice on the other end of the phone said.
I reassured him stuff wasn’t what we’re about.
The voice belonged to the director of the Masters program my husband and I were interested in. We were planning to visit the University to see if this was a place we could raise our family. We already knew the program fit our DNA; we had no idea what New Brunswick would be like though.
When we told people we were considering a move to St. Stephen, our Canadian family said people don’t move to New Brunswick, they move from New Brunswick. It’s an area of the world hit hard by progress, the brain drain and muscle drain of the more lucrative western provinces. The oil sands and industry stripped much of the able population from the New Brunswick shores.
One of my mentors in Pennsylvania, upon hearing our plans looked me in the eyes and said: “Oh Heidi, you don’t want to move to New Brunswick. It’s barren.”
As a woman who struggled with infertility for the first nine years of her marriage that word created deep fear in me.
And yet it still called to us. We knew deep within us this was the direction we were supposed to head.
We packed our trusty 20-plus-year-old Volvo station wagon and headed on an East Coast Fall Foliage tour like we could have never dreamed of. It ended with Hurricane Wilma hitting the coast of Maine as we drove up the small two lane highway getting blasted by rain as the logging trucks sped past us.
Just a small town, a tiny University, that, from our perspective, had only existed for about a month, coupled with a sincere welcome, deeply soothed our ministry-trodden souls. This place felt more like home in one weekend than any of the other dozen places I had lived up to this point.
We had no idea how it would happen, but we knew that this was where we were supposed to be.
On our drive home we finally got to see the scenery we had missed on the drive up. Mountains, rivers, ocean, color, blue skies–a place pulsing with life, growth and richness. There was little sign of the scary barrenness we were warned about.
We packed everything we could (only half of what we owned fit into the moving truck) sacrificing many precious possessions. We knocked the dust off our feet and prayed the predicted blizzards would not delay our arrival.
At Home in a Foreign Place
Very early in 2006 we moved into our rented home and landed in a culture more foreign to us than any of our previous moves.
How could it feel so familiar?
Why did it feel like we’ve returned?
In the end these questions didn’t matter.
All we knew was that it felt like home.
In conversation with the locals while we changed our drivers licenses, plates and set up our utilities we found ourselves in similar conversations.
“Turner? Oh, you must be related to the Turners out on Little Ridge?”
“Nope,” we’d answer.
“Oh, then ones out in Oak Bay?”
“No. We’re not related to anyone around here.”
“Then why’d you move here?” they’d ask, the same quizzical looks on their faces.
This Place is Mine
We’d talk about the University, how much we loved the ocean, how warm the people were and how we needed a change. Most of the time the expressions on their faces would deepen, instead of ease. We found the quickest answer in an expression they use for tourists and interlopers: “Oh, you’re from away,” they’d state, as if that explained everything.
From away.
How could that be? I finally found someplace that felt like home. Even more than the place I was born. No, I wasn’t from away, I’d think. This place knows me. This place is mine.
During one of the administrative tasks of changing over documents and registering utilities we ended up at town hall. They had the New Brunswick flag hanging with its white sailed ship and the Provincial motto written in Latin: Spem Reduxit.I wrote those words down on a scrap of paper in my purse and googled it as soon as I returned home. When I found out the meaning, I wept.
Spem Reduxit: Hope Was Restored
That’s why this place felt so much like home.
The local joke is that your family can live here for generations and still be considered “from away.” They only consider those born and bred on the Bay of Fundy as locals.
Last spring I was celebrating with friends at a local tradition called a kitchen party–lots of instruments, singing and laughter. A friend had written a song using the motto. It is deeply moving to me. It’s called New Brunswickers Arise. I leaned over and whispered to one of my professors that I am going to begin calling myself a “New New Brunswicker.” He smiled, shook his head and said: “Oh, you think it’s that easy, eh?”
Last August we finally bought our home here. We are putting down roots. Deep roots. Our family has begun to discuss how we plan to decorate our new home for the holidays. It’s exciting to know that where we decide to put the advent candle wreathe and the Christmas tree will begin a tradition that could continue for the rest of our lives. We are settling in.
And no matter what the locals might think, we are not from away anymore.
Reflect:
One word for today: Nest
Activity: How can you make your space feel more like home? Find one thing that you can do today that makes your space feel more creative and celebratory for this upcoming season. Be creative, be inspired, make your nest your home.
Prayer: God, in this place I dwell, you dwell with me. Help it to feel more like home. Please be at home in me today.
About Heidi:
Heidi Renee Turner is a Redemption Junkie. She longs to find meaning in the pieces other people throw away. She finds life in storytelling, art, good meals and deep conversation. She is slowly working toward her Masters in Ministry at St. Stephens University and she is putting down roots, with her husband Keith of 22 years, 13-year-old daughter, Alinea and 11-year old-son Jacob in St. Stephen, New Brunswick.
