I’m not gonna lie, I was happy to flip my calendar over from March to April. Every little handwritten note throughout the month was something I’d rather forget, March 7 – Take pregnancy test (it was negative) March 12 – Buy more tests (they were positive!) March 13, 15, 17, 24, 31 all Dr.’s appointments, the first very happy, the latter devastating.

It’s been a month. And while I’m still processing and grieving and moving on, I sometimes have to remind myself of all that’s happened in the past month. We got pregnant. And 6 weeks later we had a miscarriage.

After the miscarriage we had a crazy couple weeks. I had a lot of work to tackle with Easter Sunday approaching, and Tim was preparing to present at conferences in Chicago and Vancouver.

The light at the end of the tunnel? Vancouver. We planned to be there a couple of extra days so we could relax, explore the city and just get away from the usual pressures and stress of our day-to-day lives. We got back Saturday night and friends asked how the trip went.

The answer, honestly, was that it was a relaxing and fun few days, a gorgeous change in scenery, a break from Whole30 full of beautiful things like soup dumplings, poutine, gelato and oysters. But here’s the thing, this trip didn’t heal anything, or solve anything. Vacations can’t do that.

See I “knew” that this trip wasn’t a solution, but realized immediately that I had been approaching it as if it was due to our business and stress. This is not a new thing for me, and probably many of us. We think we just need to make it to the weekend, to the beach, or whatever. By focusing so hard on the “next” it means we don’t address the factors in our everyday lives that are causing this discontent in the first place.

If you’re heading off to a tropical paradise soon, 1. I’m jealous and 2. don’t worry, I’m not saying we shouldn’t go on vacations, I’m actually a huge believer in spending money on travel and experiences vs things. What I’m saying is we shouldn’t look to them to solve or save us in ways they simply cannot.

So what happened on our trip to reset my perspective? Where do I start? Well, departure day. Denver airport. We had allotted just enough time to park our car, catch the shuttle, and make it to the gate. We head to the kiosk to check in/drop our bag. I check in fine, but then this metallic genie tells us Tim must talk to an agent. Great, fine, just a technical thing, right? Luckily the line is not long, we make it up to the desk, passports in hand, eyeing our large case suspiciously – silently threatening him to stay under 50 lbs. But then the agent looks at Tim’s greencard, grimaces, and hands us a flyer, while saying things like “new requirement” “fill in an application” and “I’m really sorry”.

At this point I need to back up and explain something to you. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of warm fuzzy feelings for Canada. No reason for it, just had no desire to visit, nor did I understand why people would want to live there. (To be fair in my mind it was always snowy and ridiculously cold and full of maple syrup and not much more). Now several things have recently begun to sway my opinion, 1) of course Anne (of Green Gables) is set in PEI, I’ve always loved Anne but only recently fully acknowledged that the magical world of Green Gables is in fact part of Canada 2) A couple of shows, namely Heartland, and When Calls the Heart, have depicted a Canada I could easily learn to love, mountainous, rural, full of horses and a simpler life. If you haven’t watched these shows, you’re missing out.

So why is this important? Because all this recent goodwill and cheer towards our northerly neighbors threatened to come crashing down when I heard that these brutes were trying to keep my husband out of their country.

The short version of this drama is that unless you are from the US or Canada, and want to visit Canada. You now have to apply and pay for a special permit, an “ETA”. The good news, it was only supposed to take a few minutes to complete, and another 10 minutes to process. The bad news, filling out tedious and lengthy forms on your phone is not fun, nor is it good for your marriage.

Thankfully I managed to type everything in correctly on my third try and submitted it. We waited and refreshed as the minutes ticked by. Finally, the approval email came through and we were able to check in, make it through security and to the gate in time. That was a close one Canada, watch yourself.

One Seattle layover later, and we land in Vancouver. A quick and painless train ride into downtown and we’re flying high. I needed to stop at a drugstore to grab a hairbrush (last minute packing, don’t do it). We check into our upgraded room with stunning views of the city, mountains, and the water and get ready to head into town. So far, great. I open my purse to grab my wallet, and it’s not in the main compartment. Strange. I look around the room, in my jacket, and carry on, nope. That sinking feeling hits my stomach. “Baby? have you seen my wallet?” He hadn’t. Another search confirmed it was not in that room. Immediately I check our accounts, no charges, yet(?!) We check with the concierge, nothing. And I quickly head back to the drugstore, praying that maybe it was there.

You guys, I walk in, the girl who checked me out is standing there. Nearly in tears I tell her I was there earlier and did anyone turn in a wallet? She stops and asks me…well that depends, are you Kimberly Passmore from Colorado? I could have kissed her on the mouth. Here’s the thing, she found my wallet on the counter after i left, she remembered I had a suitcase, so she called the train station, she called the airport, she went on my facebook! (possibly creepy, but mostly impressive) So yeah, okay Canada you’re looking pretty good at this point.

So relieved, we head out for a night full of shawarma, walks on the seawall, and one of the best things I’ve ever eaten: soup dumplings. google them, they are pure witchcraft, soaked in hopes and dreams and then perfectly wrapped like little gifts from culinary angels.

But despite my magical dumplings, there were still shenanigans to come. Part of the trip I was looking forward to most was our day trip up to Whistler on the scenic Sea to Sky Highway. While it still ended up being one of the best parts of our trip, the day started in disaster.

We were dressed in our outdoor best and ready to pick up our rental car, but first, we needed some coffee. The barista poured us two gorgeous flat whites, we sat in our comfy chairs and checked the map to confirm where the rental company was. Then it happened, #flatwhitegate. I grabbed my bag sitting on the coffee table to move it to the floor, I did not see Tim’s full flat white shimmering in the morning light in all its full-fatted goodness just behind it. The coffee shop full of patrons watched in slow mo horror as it cascaded down onto the hard tile floor and spread in creamy concentric circles. Awesome. We don’t even have children to blame this on. I grab a large stack of napkins which accomplish nothing, and bizarrely seems to create more coffee. A kind employee comes to mop it up. It is then I notice my bag is also dripping. I wipe the bottom absent-mindedly thinking some coffee got on it, but the drips persist, and they are clear. I open my bag, my FULL nalgene has completely emptied itself onto my hat, gloves, extra tights and socks.

I turned to Tim. “I need the room key.” He knew from my face just to hand it over no questions. Once in the room I surveyed the soggy damage and to my delight found that my extra thick wool socks seemed to have absorbed the worst of the flood, saving. for the most part, my hat and gloves – hurrah! Tim then walked into our room as if he were entering a minefield, rightly so as I had already pronounced that this day was doomed. But after eating some bacon-y food and drinking coffee I was sufficiently convinced to begin the day again.

The drive on the Sea to Sky Highway was 2 hours of breathtaking view after view. It rained off and on through the day, which only intensified the vibrant greens of the trees and mosses all around us. My dry and dusty Colorado soul soaked it all in, breathed in deep the heavy, wet oxygen surrounding us on all sides. We listened to local native radio stations until we lost signal. With the light rain falling down, and spectacular scenery, I put on a worship song I’d just been introduced to lately. It was one of those rare moments where the words of the song just fit so perfectly into where we were, physically, emotionally and spiritually. The song is There is a Cloud by Elevation Worship.

I was beautifully reminded then and there that even if this was a perfect vacation with no mishaps, it could still never refresh, revive or heal me. Only Jesus can. Only Jesus does.

The words of the song also resonated in the work that God has been doing in my heart over the past month. I’ve felt a stirring in my heart that the dry season is ending soon, that he is calling my hope to arise.

I don’t know when. I don’t know what it looks like. I just know it’s coming.