One More Hill

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Guest Post by Nigel Bell

In the mid 1960’s my family and I lived on a migrant hostel in South Australia. After spending eighteen months living there, my dad and mom began taking my sister and I to see the new family home getting built. I was seven years old and very excited at the thought of having my own bedroom.  

Knowing I’d soon be moving away from my friends forever, I became inspired to take them on a long walk to see my new home. I didn’t realize at the time how an innocent journey of 10 miles would serve as a lifelong spiritual lesson.

I was part of a gang of five, ranging in age from 6 to 8 years old who all met on the hostel. Each of us migrated from the UK. Our parents were always working so we had to entertain ourselves. None of the parents knew of our intended long walk and I had no idea of how long it was going to take us. 

I’m pretty sure we would have looked like the cast from a Winni the Pooh movie heading out on an unknown adventure. We slowly made our way through the narrow walkways between the barrack-like hostel accommodation blocks. I skipped ahead, to reassure the boys I could remember the way. Their many questions indicated they were as eager as I was to see the new house. 

Heading off, we clung to the curbside of busy roads, then spent time trying not to step onto the rendered lines of the concrete footpaths, just for fun. As we approached the fertilizer and the tanning factories, we all laughed at each other as we mentally prepared for a very fast run with fingers tightly pressed over our nostrils, to avoid retching at the extremely bad smells. 

We passed dozens of used motor vehicle lots, occasionally taking time out to sit behind the wheel of a fancy car until the salesman told us to quickly get on our way. It never occurred to me we would also have to walk back, making our walk a total of 20-miles! 

After several hours on the road, our skinny legs began to buckle in the heat of mid-summer. Smokey diesel fumes from big semitrailers made us hold our breath as they rattled past us laden with heavy mining equipment heading north. As they rocked by, they blew fine grit from the curbside against our bare legs. It made us run on the spot attempting to rub the the stinging sensation away. We had no hats, sunglasses, drink bottles, sunblock or fly repellent to ease the impact of a hot, dry South Australian summer. 

About two hours after we ate the last of our apples, I could see morale was waning. Frequent comments such as, ‘How far, now?’ or ‘My shoes hurt.’ were indicators that the long steep inclines in the middle of the day were making everyone grumpy. None of us had any money to buy sweets or lemonade. I recall the sun pounding down on my back and, making my bare arms and neck red.

We kept scanning front yards for garden taps so we could take a drink. Finally, out in the distance, my spirits rose when I saw a major intersection. We had to make a left turn down the last main road and I knew it wasn’t much farther to go. 

We proceeded to walk up the last major road getting ever closer to the new home. The scenery changed to treeless sheep paddocks and endless overhead power lines. It felt like we had walked another hour when it was only 10 minutes. There was one more hill to walk up just ahead. We’d be 80% of the way there.

In that moment, I stopped to imagine peering down from the crest of the hill we were approaching. Like a man lost in the desert hoping to the heavens we could rest soon, I wiped the perspiration from my eyes.

 In my mind’s eye I imagined peering down at the new housing development signage that would be on my right and further on down the road, a hotel would be visible on the left in the distance. After walking past the housing sign, I would direct the gang toward the hotel and we would turn right across the road from it. 

Then we would enter the housing development. My newly built house would be up a hill close by. A few minutes later, I would be pointing out my new home, telling my mates, ‘We’ve arrived! We made it, lads!, well done!’ Then most importantly, upon our arrival, we would all soak ourselves with water to cool ourselves down. We would then enjoy as many drinks of tap water as we wanted. 

When my moment of reminiscing ended, I urged the boys to keep going. “It’s just over this hill”, I said eagerly. I approached the last major landmark knowing it would reveal to me and to them the promised land where my parents arranged our house to be built. 

Seconds later, my heart sank. As I stood on the crest of the hill, all the familiar landmarks and scenery had disappeared! Instead of those familiar landmarks, another hill had been placed there instead. And it looked just like the last one. The sight of an  unexpected hill made me lose all my confidence.

I was faced with a dilemma. Could I endure the strain of further disappointments? What if there’s another hill after this one and then another one? It was as though nature wanted to hit me with a plague as well.

Squadrons of flies decided my eyes would serve as a watering hole for them to have a drink from. Squatting them away, I apologized to the boys. We turned around and very slowly dragged our heavy feet homeward, heads down without complaint.

Minutes later, a car horn kept beeping from across an intersection. I was shocked to see my father smiling at us from behind the wheel! The boys and I were elated. We were chauffeured the rest of the way in my dad’s 1959 FC Holden to see my new house. On the way, dad told me he had a feeling I might be going there.

It was one of my earliest experiences of divine intervention with the Law of Grace. I did all I could, and finally when I was spent, Spirit took care of the rest.

Despite the obstacles, I managed to show the boys my new house. I also discovered during the drive, if I had just walked up that next hill, I would have been able to find my way. From that day on, this experience served as a spiritual lesson. Whenever I faced difficulties such as a crisis of faith, this experience would come to mind. I would remember, It’s just one more hill. One more hill to face and then eureka! 

Nigel loves to keep a written record of how life reaches out through daily life to teach, guide, and protect him on his spiritual journey. Writing is a way for him to learn, share, and capture the love of the Great Spirit.