​Growing Older, Growing Richer
It is awful getting older. And I've been so sick and getting sicker... Ugh. 
It's been tough but I  have made some beautiful decisions that have stood me in good stead. 

One of them was - when things began to fall apart, I moved out of my Adamar apartment in Winnipeg and into the basement of Odia and Larry's home in Winkler. I know now that it was one of the best decisions I could have made.

It was supposed to be just a bedroom. Somehow, however, I have gradually taken over the entire basement—don't tell them. I have a lovely bathroom, a comfortable living room, a television,  easy access to the rec room, office, library, and even a workout room with a treadmill.

But better than the space itself is what it provides: the opportunity to be with my lovely daughter Odia and get to know her in a new and special way.

Odia is my middle daughter—the one parents sometimes overlook simply because the oldest child often assumes a kind of positional leadership in the family. I suppose I thought I knew her well, and in many ways I did. She always seemed —a survivor, resourceful and capable. I trusted that strength and just let her be.
​
Meanwhile, our oldest daughter, Candace, was more like Cliff: an entertainer, spontaneous, sometimes a bit flighty. She seemed to need more attention. But then Candace was murdered  at 13 years of age, and our family changed completely.  That's when, Odia, 9 years old at the time, naturally filled the gap Candace had let behind.  But frankly  I was too absorbed by our family trauma to notice  much. 

Now I realize how neglectful  I was. I didn't pay much attention to to  Odia. I assumed she was a survivor and I was right - she survived all of our chaos - but  she did so much more. She grew through it all.... Now sometimes I wonder where she came from - she is truly amazing. 

For one thing, she is a gifted artist, much like her father. She has a remarkable social intelligence and even a touch of the entertainer in her. Her laugh can command a room. People are drawn to it. I, on the other hand, have always been more of a wallflower.

Very early on, she showed my mother's gift with food. We used to call Odia our Martha Stewart, and she has never lost that touch. While I spent much of my life trying to escape the kitchen—and developing highly efficient ways of avoiding it—Odia embraced it. Her cookies are to die for. In fact, all her baking is extraordinary, both in taste and presentation. She can still wow the many tea parties and social gathering she organizes at the church.

Somewhere along the way she also developed the same organizational genius that I always admired in my oldest sister. In her home, everything has a place, and everything somehow finds its way back there. This gift for organization and problem-solving now expresses itself in her remarkable understanding of technology. She understood artificial intelligence  - and was using it long before most of us knew what it was..

Even more impressive, she organizes people with the same ease. Satisfaction seems to follow her wherever she goes. It is no surprise she has become Vice-President of People and Culture at Friesens in Altona.

Her home reflects who she is - as well. Everything is thoughtfully chosen. Everything speaks of care, beauty, and commitment. She has created an atmosphere that feels both welcoming and inspiring. She is remarkably organized, endlessly resourceful, and deeply wise.

I am fortunate beyond words that she pays such close attention to me. She takes me to medical appointments, keeps track of names, medications, questions, and instructions. She makes sure I receive the best care possible. Because of her, I have excellent medical support and access to whatever I need. A doctor's appointment and medical consultations that might once have felt overwhelming become a simple outing. 

On top of all that she has a beautiful husband, Larry.

I would never be here if Larry had not been the first person to invite me into their home after Cliff died.
Watching Larry often reminds me of my father. He loves vehicles. His garage reminds me of my father's old gas service station, filled with tools and projects and possibilities. He cares for every vehicle with extraordinary attention. His truck is practically an art piece, complete with bright red air nozzles and polished details. Even my vehicle is always clean, maintained, and ready to go.

When Larry cooks, he enters another realm altogether. He becomes a master chef, delighting in every flavor, every seasoning, every possibility. I used to think restaurant food was always superior because it was prepared by professionals. Not anymore. When Larry takes over the kitchen, it feels as if we are living inside a cooking show.
In the mornings, when Larry sees me, he always pauses and asks, "How are you doing?" his chaplain's heart comes forward. He has an extraordinary ability to see people, listen deeply, and connect. His bedside manner comes naturally because he genuinely cares for those who are vulnerable. In those moments, he becomes a chaplain. He listens. He notices. He offers presence more than answers. It is a quiet ministry, but a powerful one.

Larry is not only my son-in-law and the owner of the house. He is also the pastor of Winkler Cornerstone Vineyard Church, where I worship. His generous heart sets the tone for the entire congregation. His operatic singing voice fills the sanctuary, and his passion for healing prayer helps knit us together into a healing family.

Best of all, he never complains when I ask him to pick up medication, drive me to a hair appointment, or take me for coffee at the Outpost Grill or Mulligan's.

Then there is Georgia. Right now, we are all delighted to have a front-row seat as she becomes a young woman. I constantly remind myself that she is only eleven.

There is something miraculous about watching this transformation. One moment she is still playing with a squishy toy, and the next she is mixing ingredients for a cake without a recipe and producing something that leaves us speechless.
One moment she displays wisdom beyond her years, speaking with confidence and insight. The next she is giggling, expressing her fears, and running off to her room.

Her vocabulary astonishes me. Her observations often leave me speechless. It is breathtaking to hear such mature wisdom emerge from someone still so young. The other day she was able to describe the difference between fake optimism and informed hope. She is worth watching.

And then there is Charlie. Charlie, the family dog, is thirteen years old.
He follows me everywhere, deeply interested in my every movement. We share one important passion: chocolate. Unfortunately, Charlie has occasionally stolen mine, consumed it, and somehow survived.

His barking can be disruptive. Sometimes it is enough to drive a person crazy.

But then I think about the alternative. The alternative would be silence. Charlie refuses to allow that. He stirs things      up. He creates commotion. He keeps life moving. 

From my little suite downstairs, I hear the sounds of family life unfolding above me. Not the details of private conversations—those belong to others—but the music of ordinary living. I hear people coming and going. I watch the dog being cared for. I see the yard maintained. I observe the rhythms and responsibilities of everyday life.
As my own body becomes more fragile, I find myself surrounded by signs of life growing stronger.
Growing older may be difficult.
​
But growing older while surrounded by love is a profound blessing.

Let It Go Day is observed every year on June 23. In 2026, this date falls on a Tuesday. This informal personal-growth holiday gives people a reason to release grudges, regrets, worries, and clutter that have become too heavy to carry. It is not about pretending hard things never happened; it is about choosing what still deserves attention and what can be set down. People often mark the day by writing down what they want to release, clearing a small space at home, apologizing where appropriate, or taking a quiet moment to move forward.
 
Why is Let It Go Day important?
A date on the calendar can turn a vague intention into an action. Old grudges, unfinished arguments, and private regrets can take up a surprising amount of attention, even when nothing useful is being learned from them anymore. Let It Go Day gives people a low-pressure way to name what is weighing them down and decide what no longer needs daily mental space. That choice can be small, such as deleting an old message, or more serious, such as beginning a difficult conversation.
The day also makes room for a healthier understanding of release. Letting go does not require denying pain, excusing harm, or rushing past grief before it has been processed. For difficult experiences, moving forward may require time, boundaries, support from trusted people, or professional care. The useful part of the observance is its practical question: what can be carried wisely, and what is only making life heavier?

• It gives people a clear prompt to stop replaying old hurts.
• It supports forgiveness without forcing reconciliation.
• It makes emotional cleanup feel concrete and manageable.
• It pairs well with decluttering physical or digital spaces.
• It can mark a quiet midyear reset.

How to Celebrate Let It Go Day
Write down one regret, grudge, fear, or worry that has been taking up too much space, then decide what action would help loosen its hold. That might mean throwing away the note, making a plan, apologizing, deleting an old thread, or finally removing an object that keeps pulling attention backward. Keep the action realistic rather than dramatic. A small act that can actually be done is more useful than a grand promise that disappears by tomorrow.
The day can also be shared with care. Friends, families, classrooms, or teams can use it to talk about mistakes, forgiveness, stress, and moving forward without turning the conversation into forced confession. A gentle approach works best, especially when the subject touches loss, conflict, or shame. For anyone dealing with deep pain, Let It Go Day can be a starting point for seeking support rather than a demand to be over it.

• Clear one drawer, folder, or inbox.
• Write a release note and tear it up.
• Stop following an account that fuels resentment.
• Replace one self-critical thought with a fairer one.
• Ask for help with something you keep carrying alone.

I am enjoying today .......

One of Cliff's  Paintings -- He was a  master at "letting it go."

I’m a people pleaser, so when I learned that our knee-jerk response to reporters after Candace’s body was found—that we were going to forgive the person who had murdered our daughter—had sparked a national discussion, I was devastated.

Apparently, nearly 80 percent of Canadians seemed to think we were heartless, that we didn’t care, that we were somehow letting a murderer off the hook.

I was shaken to the core. I cried for days.

Of course, I was grieving for Candace. I was grieving for our family. But I was also grieving for everyone caught in the pain and confusion of that moment.

I sank very low.

Then I stumbled across a verse:
"If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you."

And as I read it, I felt the Voice whisper it directly into my heart.

I thought, Well, we have just been insulted by much of Canada because we chose the way of Christ. Perhaps that means we are now in line for a whole lot of blessings.

And we were.

Apparently, the 20 percent who understood us loved us deeply. They surrounded us with such kindness, compassion, and encouragement that we can still feel the warmth of it today.

That Voice is still with me.

It is the Voice that has continued to bless me through the years.

It brought robins to my window here in Winkler.

It brought deer to stand outside our living-room window in Grimsby when Cliff was dying.

It even brought a chickadee that landed gently on my hand.

The Voice is with me.

The Voice stays with me.
​
And I love the Voice.

​I can’t deny it. My body is getting worse and worse.

Some of you have been watching from a distance and wondering how I’m doing. Sometimes I don’t even know how to talk about it anymore…but I’ll try again.

To make it easier, I’ve started giving names to the challenges in my life.

The medication challenge, for example, I’ve named Pluto. It’s way out there—unfathomable, mysterious, and seemingly impossible to manage. Between my medications and my diet, I feel as though I’m constantly trying to solve a puzzle that defies my understanding. No matter how disciplined I am, I never quite get it right. It challenges everything I have always believed about effort, responsibility, and self-control. Most of the time, I live in denial because the alternative feels overwhelming.

My spasms are getting worse. They now show up in my face, and I find that very uncomfortable. It discourages me from being social. That creates problems for Saturn, the sanguine part of me—the part that loves people, conversation, laughter, and connection. Saturn feels isolated now, unsure whether she wants to connect or retreat.

When I’m discouraged, I lose myself in Digger - the  part of me that relishes my alone time and loves to dig around for words and thoughts – and writes and writes and writes.

Right now, I’ve been rewriting and developing the ‘life writing’ course” that I’ve been teaching for almost eight years. I never intended to teach this course, it kind of just happened . Now  I want to transform it into something truly glorious. I spend hours with it—wonderful hours. It is my creative playground, my workshop, my sanctuary.

Slowly I'm realizing, I am living the life I always imagined I would someday live.  I’m actually being forced by my physical limitations  into a  writer’s lifestyle.

People sometimes ask me, “Is there enough joy in your life right now?”
The answer is simple. I have this wonderful family who entertains me. And there’s this dog, faithfully following me around and enthusiastically jumping on everyone who walks through the door.

And then there is Cliff.  I miss Cliff. I call him my Moon at night and my Mars during the day.
The more I reflect on him, the more I realize how wonderful we had it. He was the entertainer, the photographer, the speaker, the guitarist, the magician, the actor, the preacher, the lifeguard on the beach, His memory sustains  me. When midnight comes, and when the moon is hanging quietly in the sky, I am deeply thankful.  that I had him close all those years.

And then there is the Voice – that wonderful soft Voice that speaks to  me . The Voice that has guided  me all these years. What is it telling me?  

  I think I will leave that for another day..

Photo by -- Mars 

Photo by: Cliff Derksen

I remember growing up with such a beautiful theology, God was good, life was meaningful, and the world seemed infused with His presence.

Then I reached high school. In one of our private school morning devotions. we had a visiting speaker present the Big Bang Theory and Darwin's theory of Evolution by Natural Selection.  I could see how this really did a number on our wonderful, solid, Mennonite Christian teachers as they all adjusted their theology to include this new theory.  But when  I looked at  the scientific explanations, I didn’t see natural selection – I saw the notes of a creative God improving  on His creations – until he formed man from dust “and it was good.”  And then He improved on even that and created Eve - and it was perfect. ":)

Yet my childhood faith was challenged, and from that point on it often felt as though science and faith were engaged in a constant battle—and science seemed to be winning. Not in my life - but in the world. I felt slightly diminished, I felt science was laughing at  my naive faith in a loving God. 

Years later, during the decade-long journey through the trial of Candace’s murder – we learned all about the DNA science.  Again and again, I encountered evidence that pointed toward God. I saw traces of His creative genius that put him way ahead of science  - not behind.

That is why I was so fascinated to discover this new scientific research connecting forgiveness and revenge. I had always thought of forgiveness primarily in spiritual terms, perhaps psychological terms, and more recently even through the lens of addiction. But to see forgiveness studied scientifically as the antidote to the destructive cycle of revenge felt profound.

It was as though two worlds that had long seemed divided were finally meeting. Not because faith had defeated science, or science had defeated faith, but because they were speaking the same truths but using a different language.
 
This is rich…..

Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough.  Garrison Keillor


Photo by: Cliff Derksen

rPhoto by Cliff Derksen

 I  wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but I felt a gentle nudge: “Listen.” It was one of those God nudges., so I sat up and turned my attention to my computer. Often when I can’t sleep, I will listen to YouTube channels  and  fall asleep  -  I never  know what podcast i will wake to....

On the screen, Oprah is interviewing James Kimmel Jr., a revenge and violence researcher, lawyer, and lecturer in the psychiatry department at Yale University School of Medicine. He is discussing his bestselling book, The Science of Revenge.

He is telling a personal story.

As a teenager, he had been bullied by a group of local farm boys. One night they drove past his home and shot his dog. He was devastated. Later, when the same boys returned and smashed the family mailbox, his anger exploded. He grabbed a loaded revolver from his father’s nightstand, jumped into his mother’s car, and chased the truck to a farmyard, cornered them, and pulled out the gun.

He was moments away from shooting them when, “I somehow glimpsed into my own future,” he recalled, “and saw that if I killed them, I’d be killing part of myself too.”

So he lowered the gun and left the yard. The boys had never bothered him again.

“But I wasn’t the same, I had acquired a taste for revenge which had not been satisfied, Now I just needed to figure out how to get my revenge without overpaying. ....“When I realized lawyers are the only people in our society licensed to prescribe, manufacture, and sell revenge, I studied to be a lawyer."
 
Everything he did was legal. It was taught, practiced, and encouraged by lawyers everywhere. But when he reflected on the gratification he received from winning, the damage it was doing to his relationships and mental health, and the grip it held over him, he came to a disturbing conclusion. Being a bully came with a cost.

“Slowly I realized that even though everything I did was legal. It became darker and more vengeful with time and it spilt into my personal and family life. I was exhausted and bruised from inflicting and receiving all that pain. I felt increasing guilt about making my opponents suffer. I felt I had become nothing more than a junkie shooting up in a courtroom and looking for the next hit.”

Then together with Oprah, Kimmel wove decades of Yale research together with intimate and often heartbreaking personal stories to show how revenge begins and what keeps it alive, The conversation began with a simple premise: insecurity, fear, anger, humiliation, and the sense of being wronged and how it all become fuel for revenge.

Members of the audience offered words such as fear, anger, hatred, and vengefulness. Kimmel agreed but then pushed deeper. Every grievance acts as a trigger, he explained, but the real question is what happens inside the brain once that trigger is pulled.

Kimmel summarized the anatomy of revenge this way:

• A grievance activates the brain’s pain network, particularly the anterior insula.
• To balance that pain, the brain engages its reward circuitry, including the nucleus accumbens and dorsal striatum.
• Revenge creates a temporary sense of relief and satisfaction, much like an addictive substance.
• The prefrontal cortex, which normally restrains harmful impulses, can become overwhelmed, allowing revenge-seeking behavior to become compulsive.
• Most people experience desires for revenge, but only some become trapped in addictive patterns of acting on those desires.

Revenge and Mental Illness
One of Kimmel’s more provocative claims is that serious mental illness, as defined by the DSM, is not the primary driver of most violence.
Instead, the missing link is often grievance combined with a compulsive desire for revenge.
The grievance becomes the trigger. Revenge becomes the perceived solution. Violence becomes the outcome. When it becomes compulsive and destructive, it begins to resemble an addiction. That distinction matters because addictions can be treated.

As I listened, I sank back into my pillows.

“Why do I have to listen to this, God?” I wondered aloud...

Then Kimmel begins to talk about  his solution -- the Science of Forgiveness.
The Science of Forgiveness! 

This is definitely a God moment. 
I order the book. 

"Understanding the world's deadliest addiction - and how to overcome it." Kimmel

 It  never ends....life's challenges..... continue.

Went to a Parker meeting tonight and even though I was surrounded by Parker warriors and their body guards, I felt sick, My Parker got a hold of  my tongue and wouldn't let me even smile.

Came home read my email and was reminded of our story - that hit the newspaper again -  still tied up in the court system -- never ending.  I had to forgive again.

Then I watched the video of my interview with Kate Bowler - and I look dreadful.. My story sounded unbelievably sad.. and I laughed when I should have cried.

The only good thing is the robin that cones to my window every day -- and watches me. I was starting to get worried about him. Doesn't he have a life?- I wondered. Today his beak was full of twigs - so that was good, But he did leave a white sting of something on the window. After coming and hanging around for a whole week - he's left quite a mess. 

I told my sister about him - and she reminded me that our mother loved robins! She would compete with everyone to be the first to see a robin in spring. 

It's Mother's Day  week,

This year I will remember my mother in a special way. She did life well. She carried her Parker with style and grace. She inspires me today! 

Recently  I had a conversation with someone who has shown remarkable resilience..... I asked her how she did it... This was her answer....

"I  made a decision early in life. I remember being about fourteen, walking with someone who told me,  'I'm just an angry person. My dad was angry. My grandfather was angry. It’s just who we are. People just have to get used to it.'

Something in me resisted that.

It’s not that I was an angry person—or wasn’t. It’s that I decided at that point not to let any emotion define who I am. That was the turning point for me. I realized: I get to choose.

I get to choose whether I live as a happy person or a sad one.

I get to choose whether anxiety defines me or not.

I get to choose whether I live in contentment or in unrest.

Emotions matter—I don’t dismiss them. They are important. They signal something. They are indicators. But they are not always telling the truth. Sometimes they come from the stories we tell ourselves, not from reality.

So I made a decision early on: I will not let my feelings rule me.
I am not a victim. I choose.

And for me, this way of living is deeply tied to faith.

There were moments—when everything felt fragile. In those moments, I would say, over and over: “God, You are sovereign. I trust You.”

At first, I didn’t even fully believe it. But I kept saying it. I was reminding myself, not informing God. Slowly, it became real to me: if God is sovereign, then He is over this situation too. So I began to ask a different question: “What is wise in this moment?”

That question changed everything. It created a pause—a space between emotion and action. A place where I could choose wisely instead of reacting impulsively.

Looking back, I think I made some of these decisions very early in life. I decided the kind of person I wanted to become. I chose the values I would live by.

Things like:

• Surround yourself with people  who are an example of what you want to become.
• Pay attention to wisdom.
• Choose your responses, don’t inherit them.

Those choices shaped me.
And they still do.

What a beautiful life....! 

There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot. - Plato