Wilma Derksen
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Chaos

5/9/2025

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The Bear

I must’ve been in preschool. I was sleeping upstairs in my bedroom, and my two older sisters were gone for the night. I was alone.

In the middle of the night, I woke up sensing that something was in the room. In the very dim light of the full moon, I saw a bear sitting at the top of the stairs—watching me.

Back then, there were frequent sightings of bears in the valley, wandering down from the nearby mountains. My grandfather, who liked to hunt bears, even had a bear rug in their attic—with the head still attached. We cousins would often sneak up there, and the older ones would spook us, pretending to be bears. It was terrifying – even when I knew it wasn’t real….

I lay in bed, frozen, watching the shadow. The shadow was watching me. I was paralyzed with fear for what felt like an eternity. I knew it was waiting for me. The only way to break the moment was to slip out of bed and turn on the light—.

Taking my life into my hands, I scampered across the room and switched on the light. It revealed only a robe, hung over a chair.

I was safe.

That night—and many times since—I learned something important: fear needs to be exposed.

It was a life lesson I carried with me—turn on the light.

My chosen profession, journalism, in many ways, is about just that. When a suspicious threat enters our lives, we need to see it clearly before we can deal with it. Sometimes it’s a bear. Sometimes it’s just a robe.

After my conversation with my daughter about chaos and order, I told others that I was thinking about exploring chaos with my fivefold paradigm. Everyone I told paused, a certain look coming into their eyes as they warned me: “Take care of yourself.”
The presence of the bear was in their eyes.

I understand. It wasn’t as if I haven't been aware of evil. I’ve watched a few horror movies, read C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters, read psychiatrist Scott Peck’s accounts of evil in People of the Lie, and of course, the Bible—filled with stories of demons. I’d even had a few encounters with demons myself - real and fake.

The Bible seems to be the book of authority – starting with Genesis the introduction of evil – and as you know – I’ve been churched to death so you would think I know all about it. But I’ve only looked at it through what I’ve been taught. It’s much different if one decides to analyze it and organize it for oneself.

Having spent the last three years shaping that fivefold structure of forgiveness —writing about it in my new book Impossible, forgiveness to the power of five. (available on Amazon if you’re curious), along with The Way of Letting Go I know forgiveness looks a little different when I see it through my life lens.

And now, seeing the fear again in their eyes, I know there is only one way to deal with anything that stirs fear in us. Shed light on it.

Is it a bear? Is it a lion? Or is it just a figment of my imagination? Either way, a dark shadow can have the same impact as the real thing.

So my new challenge it to put it through my lens. Can evil be organized into five?

Turning on the light – seeing  our enemy—and how it works—might even turn the threat into an adventure.

“Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down.”—Ray Bradbury
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New Quest - 7

5/7/2025

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Creative Order

At this point in my life, I find it fascinating to reflect on how murder devastated our family—and how each of us had to find a unique way to cope with that fragmentation.

Now, living with my daughter, I can appreciate her journey in a new and deeper way. Odia was just nine years old when Candace was murdered.

In a recent conversation with her, I was once again struck by the uniqueness of her path.

Odia is known for her large, monochromatic, simple yet profound fibre installation art pieces. These works carry a multilayered message shaped by her personal story and lived experience.

Her art is truly remarkable—you really should take a look. Her website is: https://art.odiareimer.com
​

If you examine her work, you’ll see how she uses art to express the repetitive nature of the universal longing to be whole and healthy. She often references the words of Jesus, the founder of forgiveness, and his teaching that forgiveness is a process—“seventy times seven” or 490 times. This principle forms the very foundation of her artistic practice.

In Odia’s words, "the haunting distress of nothingness manifests itself in the symbols of mundane, ordinary life. Often unnoticed and unremarkable to others, these images—private and seemingly insignificant—repeat over and over, wearing the spirit thin.
Her art brings these moments to life, with the hope that a visual representation of this repetitive stream might validate the tyranny of routine: the constant reminders of unfulfilled longing."

It was through this conversation that I was reminded again how each of our family had to find our own way through the darkness. Cliff, the artist, who was naturally drawn to cartooning, found expression through 15 sculptures that eventually brought him recognition. I found my path in writing—one of my books even explores the “15 elements of murder,” which seem to mirror Cliff’s sculptures. This connection was also captured in a documentary.

Our son Syras, who was just three years old at the time of Candace’s death, has become a psychologist and trauma expert - exposure therapy.

There is a pattern here. As a family, we’ve documented our fragmentation—and the journey of forgiveness that helped us heal our brokenness. And as you can see - we had to work hard at this - to find our way through to freedom and healing.

But what about the evil itself? How do we organize that?

When I started speaking about this idea with others, they reacted with concern. “Don’t write about it at night,” some warned. But I’m intrigued.

What if I subjected the impossible chaos of murder to the power of five?
​
So I went back to the Garden of Eden—the place where chaos first revealed its face. It’s right there…..


As Joni Mitchell puts it in her song “Woodstock”:

“We are stardust;
We are golden;
We are billion-year-old carbon;
And we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.” Joni Mitchel
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New Quest - 6

5/6/2025

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Winkler

And that’s how I found myself in Winkler—living with my daughter and her husband.

Winkler is wonderful. It has all the conveniences of a big city combined with the accessibility and friendliness of a small town. I felt at home immediately. For one thing, Winkler starts with “W”—just like Winnipeg, just like Wilma.

My daughter’s bi-level house, with its spacious lower floor, felt like it was designed just for me. Thanks to Larry’s chaplaincy at Boundary Hospital, I had immediate access to medical advice. Because of Odia’s efficiency my eating and diet concerns were well looked after. I always knew Odia was a Martha Stewart type—but I hadn’t realized Larry was a gourmet cook too. We were dining in style.

And then there’s Georgia – my granddaughter. She’s a natural nurse in the making and  cares for me – almost professionally.

Last but not least there’s Charlie, their dog—cute as a button – always following me around, guarding against any hint of loneliness.

Their exceptional care quickly made a difference, and I was able to finish and publish my book and post it on Amazon. Then just when I thought I was in the clear. I was hit by the inevitable post-publication blues.

Many believe that the reason for writing a book is to publish it—and for some, it is – but for others, like myself, the joy is in the writing of it and in the processing of it. Even as a teenager, I remember transforming a corner in our barn/wood work shop into a makeshift office and then with an old-fashioned Underwood typewriter, I learned to type and finished my first novel - a romance— of course.

Then during a conversation with my daughter, Odia, I tried to explain to her my new paradigm of chaos – and fumbled. I  tried to apply it to murder and didn't have the words. I hadn't thought it through - at least not in the context of murder something my daughter and I share. Her experience of her sister being murdered carries many of the same issues my experience of my child being murdered.  

We have wonderful discussions about forgiveness - but what about chaos of murder?

I was facing a new question – an important question. If there are five faces of forgiveness - what are the five faces of chaos?

“It’s very hard to find your own words—and you don’t actually exist until you have your own words.” —Jordan Peterson
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New Quest - 5

5/4/2025

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Why? Why do we suffer? 

When Jordan Peterson started talking about chaos and order—the fog started to lift.

Chaos was the word that really caught my attention. He was legitimizing it—a word I had been using in my own book on forgiveness. We were on the same page.

As I listened to him, I realized that his and my journey were strangely similar. We had both begun with an old-fashioned religious experience; mine had worked for me as I had continued to build on it spiritually. His hadn’t and that had forced him to explore God again and in a new way and rediscover the importance of God through a brilliant and deeply scientific search for meaning.

In his explorations to find meaning, he talks a lot about Genesis and the garden of Eden – our story of origin. I had to go back there too.

This similar starting place – is actually not that unusual. In my work with parents of murdered children, we all seemed to have to go back there to answer the question, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”

Except Peterson returned to it with science, lectures and discussions. I process a new thought by “fictionalizing” them which I did by imagining the garden through the eyes of a dove, “CeeCee.” To write this novel, I went right back to the original languages – translations commentaries and everything else I could find on the Garden of Eden. It was fun and insightful. That’s when I found the word “chaos” in those first important verses which seemed to unlock everything for me. (I should actually finish that novel as well.)

After identifying the word, “chaos” I went on to explore the word “trauma” another issue we were encountering as parents of murdered children.

I still remember when I first heard the label Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. One of our support group members suggested inviting a guest—a Vietnam draft dodger—who had introduced her to the concept. I then began my formal training as a therapist and started to work with traumatized clients.

As I studied trauma, I kept wondering how the Bible fit into psychology. It was a question that had lingered in my mind for years. I even approached professors at the theological college where my husband studied, asking why psychology wasn’t part of the curriculum. They dismissed me—ever so politely.

Yet the more I studied both Genesis and trauma, the more clearly I saw it: the story of Adam and Eve powerfully illustrates trauma—perhaps even PTSD—with more clarity than some modern thinkers, including Gabor Maté. That was when I realized: the Bible isn’t behind the times—it’s ahead of them. Again, Peterson and I were aligned.

Then, as I continued to doze listening to his words, he coupled “chaos” with “order.”
Leaving me with the question, how do we bring order back into chaos? – My way – my answer – is that we forgive….

That lightbulb moment, helped me get out of my bed and finally finish my book Impossible, forgiveness to the power of five. It is out there now – on Amazon. We haven’t launched it but it is out there.

In a surprising way, Peterson became the one who “talked” me back to life.

“As pessimistic as I am about the nature of human beings and our capacity for atrocity and malevolence and betrayal and laziness and inertia, and all those things, I think we can transcend all that and set things straight.” — Jordan Peterson
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New Quest - 4

5/1/2025

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Genius

​Actually, I became addicted to the voice of Jordan Peterson. His manner, his choice of words, and his meandering thoughts made him the perfect background for sleep.

During the first few months of listening to him, I gradually began to understand why he is now one of the most sought-after psychologist speakers in the world—and why he's been called “the most influential public intellectual in the Western world.”

He is brilliant. His IQ is said to be just above 150, with exceptionally high Verbal Intelligence (above the 99th percentile) and above-average Performance IQ (around the 75th percentile). Apparently, if you score above 130, you’re above the range of the average population; a score below 70 falls beneath it. Super intelligent or gifted individuals tend to score between 120 and 140, and only about 2% of the population scores above 130—what’s considered genius level.

By the way, I don’t agree with everything he says.

But I began to appreciate his views on the importance of Logos, for one thing. Here’s an example of his thinking: According to Peterson, ancient Greek philosophers used the term in various ways. The Sophists used Logos to mean "discourse"; Aristotle used it to refer to "reasoned discourse" or "argument" in the field of rhetoric, considering it one of the three modes of persuasion alongside ethos and pathos. The Stoics identified it with the divine animating principle that pervades the Universe. In Hellenistic Judaism, Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BC – c. 50 AD) adopted the term into Jewish philosophy. The Gospel of John identifies the Logos, through which all things are made, as divine (theos), and further equates Jesus Christ with the incarnate Logos. The term also appears in Sufism and in the analytical psychology of Carl Jung.

This is just one example of how Peterson explores a familiar word--Logos—in such a fresh and thought-provoking way.

Over those months of desperate sleep, he became the perfect sleeping pill—his beautiful string of words filling the empty spaces in my mind. I found myself falling asleep to a new kind of melody.

​Always listening for the word "chaos."

You are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you. - James Allen 

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New Quest - 4

4/30/2025

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Chaos and Order

Even in a sleepy daze, I was struck by Jordan Peterson’s ability to unpack complex topics—not as a formal lecture, but as an intellectual journey.

As I spent those early months sleeping and listening to him, I slowly began to understand why he has become the most sought-after psychologist speaker in the world—and why he’s often called “the most influential public intellectual in the Western world.”

He’s undeniably gone viral—not just in the relatively easy realm of cyberspace, but also in the more enduring worlds of print and television.

I don’t agree with everything he says, but he doesn’t expect everyone to agree with him,  Instead, he invites his audience to engage with him—asking questions, offering counterarguments, and participating in the learning process. I came to admire his panelists and guest speakers often so similar to him. They weren’t intimidated by him but interacted with curiosity, often challenging him gently and insightfully.

He became the perfect sleeping pill—his beautiful string of words filling the empty spaces in my mind. I found myself falling asleep to a new kind of melody.

Then he began to speak of chaos —and that’s when the fog lifted.

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears the truth. - —Gaston Bachelard
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New Quest - 3

4/30/2025

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The Voice

Sleep is healing – and beautiful.

Tucked away at my daughter’s place, I finally had a safe place to sleep the day away—except I have terrible sleep hygiene.

For as long as I can remember, whenever I took a Sunday afternoon nap, I would turn on the TV, my phone, or the radio to a program featuring someone preaching, and let myself drift off to the sound of a voice. One only needs to glance around a congregation on a Sunday morning to know that a good sermon can be wonderfully sleep-inducing.

So, when Cliff died and I found myself struggling to sleep at night, I returned to my Sunday afternoon habit—and it worked. I’d put on a boring preacher and fall asleep easily. But then, predictably, around three o’clock in the morning, I’d wake up—and a preacher would still be preaching.

Except it was rarely the same speaker I had started with. Apparently, YouTube automatically plays the next video, and the next—and so on.

One of the first nights in my new bed, I fell asleep listening to Kris Vallotton and woke up to Jordan Peterson. I have no idea how autoplay found him. I had heard of him, had even intended to hear him speak once, but I’d never sought him out or chosen to listen to him. How autoplay latched on to him, I’ll never know.

I still remember the first time I woke to the sound of his voice. It wasn’t particularly soothing, but his words were fascinating—meandering, thoughtful—perfect for drifting off again.

So even though I would never have chosen to listen to him on my own, I became addicted to his tornado of words. Perhaps it was because I found his swirling words matched my swirling mind.  

“Life is tragic. You are tiny and flawed and ignorant and weak, and everything else is huge, complex, and overwhelming.” -—Jordan Peterson
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New Quest - 2

4/28/2025

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At the Bottom

I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what finally sent me over the edge.

Was it unresolved grief?

​Probably.

I miss him—Cliff—terribly. I especially miss our long conversations at the end of each day: how we would process life together, make plans, and simply talk. Without him, I feel directionless.


Was it my physical health? A few months after Cliff passed, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. I chose to ignore it rather than research it or try to master it. At that same appointment, the doctor also mentioned Type 2 Diabetes and a fatty liver—none of which I took too seriously. I preferred to take the medication rather than change my lifestyle. But, having never taken medication before, my stomach revolted. It was havoc.

Or maybe it was my compulsion—to finish the book.

The one on forgiveness.


Years ago, I had promised myself, the public, and my God that I would write a book about forgiveness after the murder of our 13-year-old daughter—forty years ago. I wanted to compile my survival story, all my little secrets, into a kind of self-help book, hoping to help others in their dark moments.

I didn’t think it would be that hard.

I had worked through my grief over Cliff by completing two major projects: Chasing the Light, Cliff’s autobiography, and Lavish Mercy, my romance novel. So tackling another book didn’t feel like a stretch. I even finished the first draft of the forgiveness book, right on schedule—January 17.


But then doubt set in.

I wasn’t happy with it.

I still hadn’t found the right title, the right voice, or even the right process. I carried the entire manuscript around in my head—replaying it over and over—never quite satisfied, never at peace with it, yet too sick to work on it any further.

I still played Wordle each morning, but that was the extent of my joy, finding myself bogged down in the muddle of swirling, disjointed words—the worst writer’s block imaginable - caught in a swirl of 60,000 words.

Perhaps my burnout was a combination of all three things:
  • the grief of being alone,
  • the discomfort and uncertainty of my health,
  • and the weight of my own expectations around finishing the book.​
Whatever it was, it became the perfect storm... and I capsized.

Thrown into the deep - I encountered something .... did God send a big fish to rescue me?
​I don't know -- it was something.


"The truth is, you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed." — Eminem
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New Quest

4/28/2025

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The Crash

​I need to start this "blogging series" with an apology.

I've been totally irresponsible. For about two months, I didn’t answer emails. I didn’t respond to invitations. I didn’t meet for coffee, or return messages. I ignored everyone.  I just stopped connecting.  I crashed. 

It began back n November. My stomach started acting strangely and it became harder and harder to sit through a conversation. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t concentrate. Even just walking, standing—became difficult. It wasn’t a sharp, urgent pain, but a deep, relentless discomfort that clung to me. It robbed me of my joy - my life and left me tired. 

The exhaustion grew heavier until finally, I crashed.

It happened at the worst possible time. I had plans for a full weekend packed with things I was genuinely excited about: a leadership meeting with church, a staff celebration in Oakville, a Sunday morning speaking engagement, and a special gathering with friends.

In the middle of all this, my body gave out and I knew I either had to go to emergency—or call my daughter

With what little strength I had left, I packed a suitcase, tidied the apartment, and called my daughter. She came all the way from Winkler and brought me back to her home.

There, in her comfortable downstairs guestroom, I crawled into bed and slept.

I was done.

For two whole months—February and March—I ignored almost everything but the overwhelming need to sleep. Even though I felt irresponsible, I couldn't help my self, I was completely incapacitated.

How did I get to the point where all I wanted was to sleep? 
​
There might have been a reason....which I want to explore. I also want to explore this new stage of my life - whatever that means.

“You can be shattered, and then you can put yourself back together piece by piece. But what can happen over time is this: You wake up one day and realize that you have put yourself back together completely differently.” Glennon Doyle Melton



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2025 - 4

2/15/2025

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Younger Self....

I was in top form. After Cliff died, I was averaging a book a year. driven to fill my empty hours with meaning.
 
But after publishing Cliff’s autobiography and my romance book – the two books I really enjoyed writing – I promised myself I wouldn’t publish another book until I had completed my “legacy forgiveness” book. My main goal in writing this book was to encourage others to forgive - at least the ones who were asking me for help.
 
My deadline was January 17 which I met – but then I made the mistake of looking at it again – and this time something shifted.
 
I remembered my younger self – poised at the brink of tragedy – ready to take the flying leap of forgiveness and then in mid-air being swarmed by doubt because of the many public misinterpretations of our intention to forgive.
 
I was so helpless back then. I thought everyone knew better than we did so when they questioned me – I questioned myself. Since I had no easy answers, I just kept telling my story as a clumsy defense. It had worked for us. How and why? I wasn’t sure. 
 
It’s only now that I think I have found the answer to the questions hurled at us. I have uncovered a conceptional framework that I want to share.....
 
It’s all in the number #5.
 
In this new draft, I start with identifying the five main life spheres of forgiveness – this was a recent discovery. Once identified, I propose a five-step forgiveness process of “letting go” in each sphere. Meanwhile I expose the inner conversations we have within ourselves that often turn into an inner debate.
 
Finally, this leads me to the description of the five branches that are needed in a customized support program for forgiveness to sustain its healing power that leads to a renewed intimacy. Something that Cliff and I participated in without even knowing it.
 
So even though I still want to encourage, inspire and enable others to forgive, I no longer have that as my main goal. In this book, I want to give my younger self a conceptual framework that fits the complications I was experiencing first hand in my very public choice to forgive.
 
So, I’ve changed the name of the book. This time the title is “Impossible! … forgiveness  ... to the power of five.”
 
I’m writing this one for my younger self.
 
If I could talk to my younger self, I would just say that the path to great things is filled with a lot of stumbles, suffering, and challenges along the way. But if you have the right attitude and know that hard times will pass - and you get up each time - you will reach your destination. – Jonny Kim


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