We took an impromptu quick trip to the Fraser Valley this past weekend, spending the night in my childhood village.  Harrison Hot Springs is idyllic and has grown much since I grew up there.

We were walking along the lakeside, and my hubby asked, “What’s the name of that mountain?”

“Oh, that’s Bear Mountain”, I said.

My hubby ever helpful, told me I should consider the title “In the Shadow of Bear Mountain” for a future blog post.  Amused, I asked whatever would I write about? “Oh, you’ll think of something “, he said.  He just thought it was a cool title . . .

Of course, that got me thinking . . .

I lived under the shadow of Bear mountain, for 10 years, from the time I was eight to eighteen.  Significant years!  Our home, on the property of the church where my dad pastored was in the shadow of Bear Mountain. Memories of town parades, where I rode a brightly decorated bicycle, picnics at the beach, and the ginormous maple tree which dominated our yard all fill my memory bank.

I received my first kiss in the shadow of Bear Mountain, returning from a youth event, and I was not happy about it; this stolen kiss from a visiting German boy who I never saw again.  I spent some time scrubbing it off after that unpleasant event!

There are many memories of events at the town hall, still there, renovated and across from the beach front.  We had movie nights there, and coffee houses, friendly events our church hosted for the community and visiting tourists.  My mom hosted Jimmy Pattinson there, an amazing story that should be told on its own; a Valentines event that the Ladies of the church put on.  He was quite the celebrity guest!  My wedding reception was held there too, marking the end of my childhood.  All in the shadow of Bear Mountain.

Mountains are just there, part of the landscape.  Our little town was nestled in a pocket of mountains, the lake a sparkling jewel that we enjoyed and probably took for granted.  Sometimes we complained that the sun didn’t have full advantage as we were surrounded by mountains.  But truly, we loved living in Harrison.

I don’t know how Bear Mountain got it’s name, although there were bears around, and we often looked for them in our weekly trips to the garbage dump.

Although no family live there now, and my childhood friends all moved on, we go back again and again.  There is comfort in “going home” to the familiar landscapes.  While the town has grown from a sleepy village to a bustling tourist town, the lake and mountains remain the same.  Because nothing can improve the beauty of Gods beautiful creation.

Thanks, honey, for reminding me of good memories, memories  of living in the shadow of Bear Mountain.

In the shadow of Bear Mountain

In the shadow of Bear Mountain

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