I am a Bahamian in Vancouver, British Columbia.

A what?

Yes, a Bahamian, from the far and distant land of the Bahamas, country of 700 tropical isles. Home of coral reefs. Where Vancouver's sunshine hangs out in wintertime.

When I came here, I had no idea what the landscape was like. How my university would look. Where I would live. And as far as I know, I've got no blood relatives within a 10-hour plane journey. Still, when people ask if I have family here, it would be blatantly dishonest to say "No."

I can't even remember how I found out about the University of British Columbia. I was more interested in other schools that were much closer to home, and have more Bahamian students. God obviously had other plans. How else can you explain the mysterious disappearance of numerous transcripts I mailed to my two top-choice schools?

In mid-July 2002, just when it looked like my plans for university would be postponed for another year, an acceptance package arrived from UBC, inviting me to attend International Student Orientation in six weeks—and detailing the student visa application process, a procedure which can take up to 10 weeks. When my visa was processed in under a month, I couldn't disagree with God—UBC was where I was meant to study.

By late August, my mother and I were further northwest than we'd ever been. We flew into British Columbia late on a Friday night. After 11 or so hours of flying, I was tired but eager to see the place that would be my second home for the next three years. But in the dark all I could make out were tall lumps (later identified as shrubs) and the occasional high gate.

The next morning, though, we set out bleary-eyed to navigate the local transportation. Although we were a little jet-lagged, the trip to the cozy local church hall was our first real taste of Vancouver. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that I met the Vancouver congregation even before I saw the university, since it provided the backdrop for one of the most useful lessons of my college career—kindness.

God instructs us to "love the stranger" (Deuteronomy 10:19), an order that I have benefited from as a newcomer to Vancouver. Some families opened up their homes to me. Others welcomed me into their cars, generously offering rides to and from the SkyTrain station or to the airport. Some simply offer kind smiles, while others demand regular Sabbath hugs. All of this is good, because coming from a country whose population is a little over one tenth of the size of the enrollment of my university, a big city can be intimidating.

God's people worship Him in many different situations. Some are completely isolated from other believers. Many are part of the type of tiny congregations mentioned in Matthew 18:20. At the same time, Psalm 133 extols the bliss of being able to spend time with those who share your beliefs. Inspired sermons are important to spiritual growth, but it's amazing how, on a cold, rainy Sabbath morning, the knowledge that friendly faces will greet you can offer that extra push in favor of going out, rather than sleeping in.

Do I have a family in Canada? I believe I do—parents, grandparents and siblings, both older and younger. I have been welcomed by a group of sisters and brothers in Christ—thanks to our Father, who blessed me with their kindness and love during my time here.