bobbyrossjr.com

(blogging live from Stan and Pat Helton’s guest bedroom in Regina, Saskatchewan)

Until last fall, I had never been to Canada.

As I recounted in a Christian Chronicle column:

I am relatively familiar with Churches of Christ south of the U.S. border, having made eight or nine mission trips to Mexico.

But north of the border is a different story.

That column described my first trek to Canada — a quick visit to meet a group of church leaders in Hamilton, Ontario, a city of 500,000 about 40 miles southwest of Toronto — and included these figures:

A nation of about 33 million souls, Canada has about 150 Churches of Christ. Their combined membership totals about 7,000. The U.S. population is about nine times as large as Canada, but its Church of Christ membership — at roughly 1.3 million — is about 185 times as large.

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Church leaders in Ontario, after lunch in Hamilton last fall

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Earlier this year, I returned to Ontario to do more in-depth research and reporting for the first part of a special Chronicle series on Churches of Christ in Canada.

Now, I am back in Canada — for the fourth time in less than a year — this time in western Canada. I flew into Regina, Saskatchewan, home of Western Christian College and High School, on Friday. I spent the weekend driving hundreds of miles to interview church members in this vast prairie province where the terrain — and even the green-lettered license plates — look a lot like what I’m used to in Oklahoma.

Sunday morning, I was privileged to worship in Gravelbourg, a French Catholic town of 1,200 souls where the local Church of Christ is bucking the trend of dying rural churches and making a big difference in its community. It’ll be an extremely interesting story, but you’ll have to wait to read it in the Chronicle.

Today, I fly to Calgary, Alberta, on the second — and final — leg of this reporting trip.

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Tamie and Bobby, during our picturesque drive into British Columbia

• • •

Not too long after my first trip to Canada last year, Tamie and I were in Montana working on a story and found ourselves real close to the Canadian border. Since Tamie had never been to Canada (I, of course, was a veteran north-of-the-border tourist by then ), we decided to go just for the fun of it. It turned out to be quite the experience.

Here’s what Tamie wrote about it at the time:

During our lunch, the Smiths mentioned their home was only 10 miles or so from the Canadian border. Drat, I said, remembering I had taken my passport out of my computer bag and stored it in the desk at home, never dreaming we might have the time and proximity to visit on this trip. Not to worry, they said — I could cross the border with just my driver’s license.

Of course, that was all the info I needed at the time, and we happily sped off toward British Columbia. The border patrol asked a few polite questions (which Bobby said I answered really nervously) and then opened the gate to his country with instructions for us to have a great dinner in Fernie and enjoy ourselves. Well, OK. And thanks!!

We drove the 40 miles (actually, we drove kilometers because we were in Canada and you’re not allowed to drive miles) and looked around this cute little resort town. Oh my goodness. Snow on the mountains. Leaves that looked as though they were a week or so ahead of the Idaho/Montana leaves and the most gorgeous tunnels, rock formations and other natural beauty. My jaw actually hurts today from my mouth just hanging open yesterday.

On our way out, we made a pit stop under the Maple Leaf Golden Arches and then headed back for the good ol’ homeland. Bobby cracked some joke about them having to let me back in. Ah hahahaha, we both laughed.

We pulled up to the window and I smiled at the agent, handing him Bobby’s passport and my driver’s license. He did not smile back.

Fast-forward 10 minutes. Bobby and I are standing inside the building now, our rental car parked in a special lane for losers (me) who don’t have more than one form of identification. Our pockets emptied and turned inside out, our ankles exposed, agent No. 2 had now pulled our car inside the building of shame to completely inspect it. It took a long time. I watched her through the double windows as she scrutinized the engine, pried pieces off the door and out of the trunk to inspect for whatever she was inspecting for. It was comical, but only because WE are US. I mean, I know they don’t know us, but milk chocolate is my idea of an illegal substance.

Bobby and I had to keep from making eye contact so we wouldn’t bust out laughing and thereby look either guilty or unstable. About 30 minutes later, after Bobby endured harsh bladder restriction punishment, she came back in and quizzed us about our reason for being here. We explained it all again.

“But you don’t have luggage?” she said.

“It’s in our hotel,” we replied.

After showing reservation and receipt info, we were finally freed.

The moral of the story here is beauty comes at a price. Be prepared to pay, in some sense, for any trip you take to Canada, even if you only take memories.

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During my enjoyable visit with the Heltons here in Regina, Stan introduced me to “Corner Gas,” a pretty hilarious comedy about life in Saskatchewan. I have already added it to my Netflix queue. You might also enjoy this related YouTube video that Stan showed me: