Author
conniepurvis

Leaving Iona

I felt like a real pilgrim. The morning was cold and heavy with fog. I wasn’t dressed warmly enough and I shivered as we waited for the ferry that would take us to the Isle of Iona.

Small Beginnings

I sat among young people in the wood-paneled chapel of Presbyterian College. It was just after 9 a.m. on a Saturday and the city of Montreal was quiet. We were beginning a journey. For one week, these young people would be learning to preach.

Faith in the Flood

Rev. Drew Burnand arrived in High River, Alta., days after June’s devastating flood almost washed it away. He said it was like “something out of a sci-fi movie.” The streets were empty of people and coated with a thick layer of mud. Train tracks were twisted. Asphalt in a parking lot was rippled.