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Head Walker to Heart Warrior Part 2

One recent Saturday, I drove to St. Mary's to celebrate the Heritage Day festivities with my daughter. By then I was well into another journey, the search for a peaceful heart.

I had started the two and a half hour drive, early, choosing a route that avoided highways and had just driven through Beeton when the crossing lights up ahead signalled that a train was coming. I slowed to a stop and watched the hypnotic stream of boxcars, a seemingly endless graffiti gallery, gently swaying by on their way. A random surprise art exhibit.

As I drove through the village of Hockley, listening to CBC Radio, the bluesy voice of Canadian jazz artist, Laila Biali kept me company and set me bopping in my seat with her song, Queen of Hearts.  

Along one of the back roads after leaving the town of Orangeville, a big white tent stood in a field with a sign at the gate saying, "Gospel Meeting. All Welcome." The word "gospel," comes from an old English word with two parts: God (good) spell (news). Good News Meeting--all welcome! It seemed from another time, that tent in the field, but the world needs more Good News Meetings.

I stopped for gas in the little town of Arthur and noticed the skinny white-haired man at the next gas pump. He wore a blue baseball cap, and baggy, well-worn beige corduroys held up securely by royal blue braces--just part of the Saturday morning non-crowd.

By now it was the top of the hour and time for the news, and a celebration of peace was announced between at least two countries on earth--Eritrea and Ethiopia--which have been in a state of war that divided families for decades. I rejoiced and celebrated their peace--good news.

I entered Perth County, passing unadorned meeting houses, and signs for slow-moving vehicles, and summer sausage for sale. Mennonite couples dressed in brown and black, the women in bonnets and the men in straw brimmed hats, clip-clopped along in horse-drawn buggies. And, as always, I paid attention to the sign for a fellow pie-maker's bakery, Anna Mae's, in Millbank.

Black and white Holstein cows lazed beneath shady trees, their hay feeder near at hand, as if for a Saturday picnic--but in no rush to eat as they blinked benignly at the passing traffic. A sign at the end of a farm driveway advertised, "Cut flowers for sale," and I thought of how beauty will ooze out--there's no stopping it, no matter how plain we might try to live out of a desire to be "unworldly." God made
colour and pizazz--it's everywhere, we might as well give in and enjoy--embrace--and engage in it. 

Such was the start of the beautiful day, spent with my equally beautiful daughter, with enough personal pizazz for a whole bouquet of flowers with her vibrancy. 

 That day ended with a visit, into neighbouring Norfolk County, and a rural route of the village of Scotland, which I wrote about in an earlier post, here.

The friend whose mother, Lois, I visited, loved the post and asked that I print it off and mail a copy to Lois. 

In the next part, I'll tell you what happened when I went to the post office to mail it as that little adventure is where the title of the blog post came be continued.


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