Dear Reader,​

It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to you. I cannot thank you enough for the lessons you’ve taught me and the friendship you’ve so freely given. I will miss working with you and wish you all great things. Please keep in touch. My door will always be open to you.
 
Love

Wilma. 

It's over... Cliff's story has been told.​
 
Can Bees fly in the rain?
​Not without their yellow jackets.
 
And the story stops -- we are finished.
********************
Dear Reader, 

This is Wilma. Unfortunately, the book still needed quite a bit of work at the time of Cliff’s diagnosis.  While in bed, Cliff continued to organize, draft the stories and fill in the details, but he ran out of time.
 
As he was declining, he asked me to help him. Both of us were already grieving and could have so easily gotten mired down in that sandpit of sadness - but rather than let the lack of polish deter us, we decided that we would blog out the story way before it was actually ready to be published as a way of inviting conversation and dialogue and also as a way of keeping us disciplined and on track
 
It did just that, the blogging kept the story moving. But rather than a polished presentation, it became a process. Getting immediate feedback - was encouraging and insightful. The discipline of doing it daily, also divided this huge task of writing a book into manageable, daily, baby steps.
 
Now that the first draft is completed, let me assure you that the process is not over.
 
In some ways we have used this blog and you as readers as a Beta Group…  Here is a definition of a Beta Reader.
 
Beta readers review manuscripts before they're published, providing the author with feedback from the reader’s point of view. Beta readers can be friends or family members — anyone who will approach the book as a casual reader, pointing out things they liked and disliked, and highlighting the elements writers become blind to during countless revision.
 
We would like to encourage you in this role and give feedback.

Do not worry about the punctuation – there will be a rewrite and a copy editor for that. But if you have insights, corrections, details or directional insights, feel free to submit them to me.

And if you feel so inclined you can submit an official review of the book with you name attached that could be used in published copy.

We are ambitiously looking to fall to have it done.... 

Thank you!
 
Send to: derksenwilma@gmail.com

We have reached the end of the Cliff's story - not the end of his flower pictures but the end of his words.  Your words - your encouragements have made this journey memorable.  Thank you for every comment, every word of support that have come through in so many different ways, phone calls, messages, comments and texts. 

Smiley....
We don’t change the message. The message changes us.

The story now ends with this last blog.
*************************************
 
There were huge snow storm in April that kept us housebound and everyone else,  so Wilma attempted to make it interesting for me by transforming our front porch into a sanctuary by putting out bird seed to attract all sorts of fluttering birds at first. Eventually the rabbits and squirrels hopped onto the outside porch table and even the deer - lots of them. 
 
Once the medical bed arrived it made it easier to accommodate visitors. 

My siblings and their families started to arrive and we had a system in place, group discussions around the bed then private conversations with everyone individually. If I needed time to rest, the art studio became a separate dining room for the guests to visit.

With each person and each family grouping good memories were celebrated. My autobiography blogs becoming great conversational pieces…especially with my siblings. Of course we remembered each incident differently - and each story was retold, reinterpreted and relived  with gusto and  a great deal of laughter.  Some healing also occurred  - as it always does when conversations are authentic.

I realized one thing about our family conversations - and that was how much we talk about the future. I couldn't always join in the planning of 'seeing each other again.'  I had no future to share with them....

One of the visitors started talking about visiting Syras and Natasha at their home in Lindenwood and described their swimming pool. We explained that it had only been completed at the end of summer last year and that we had enjoyed it about four times before the winter had set in.

As we talked, I remembered the joy of swimming in that beautiful pool – swimming strongly with grandchildren hanging onto me for the ride of their life. I remembered promising them that we would do so much more of the same next summer when the season would be longer and they would have learned to swim... and.... and.  Now I knew that those days would never come…. I cried. 

With some guests, there were some moments of new understandings of each other. Then one wonders why we bother to misunderstand each other in the first place.  The issues seem so small.

I also realized that I was limited in my patience. My body was taking more and more attention - and when I was tired - I was really tired.

There were two visitors that brought me a new experience.– one was from Winnipeg, the other from afar. Both came with a book - their personal favorite. Both books were compiled of blessings – two very different kind of blessings.     
                                                                                                                    After presenting the book to me, my wife asked them to read a blessing from their book, chosen randomly with a holy thumb. "Let God decide the passage," she said playfully. 

The first read from "Blessing your Spirit"  by Sylvia Gunter and Arthur Burk. "God has called you to be highly creative, to color outside the lines of your secular and religious culture. Your gifting, your specific anointing is to see new principles in God‘s word, to understand new facets of the nature of God, and to find new applications of the nature of God in the contemporary culture. I bless that in you. I release you from the limitations of a culture that will bind you to something smaller than that which God has called you to. We celebrate your creativity and your ability to color outside the lines of your culture."

Wow! Her chosen passage seemed so prophetic.
 
The second read a poem from "Benedictus: a book of blessings" by John O’Donohue  "For Death"

From the moment you were born,
Your death has walked beside you.
Though it seldom shows its face,
You still feel it’s empty touch
When fear invades your life,
Or what you love is lost
Or inner damage is incurred.

Yet when destiny draws you
In to these spaces of poverty,
And your heart stays generous
Until some door opens into the light,
You are quietly befriending your death;
So that you will have no need to fear
When your time comes to turn and leave.

That the silent presence of your death
Would call your life to attention,
Wake you up to how scarce your time is
And to the urgency to become free
An equal to the call of your destiny.

That you would gather yourself
And decide carefully                                                                            How you now can live
The life you would love
To look back on
From your deathbed.

Wow!

We were all crying by the time he was finished reading.
 
God wasn't playing. I felt the presence of God in both readings  -  they seemed both so specifically designed for the moment - another reminder how much God cares for us.

Each word, each visit was so precious..... and then....
                                                                                                                    

*********************
This is Wilma

The last visitor left Monday, May 16, and I could tell that Cliff was failing. Home care had started that morning - just in time because he could no longer look after the essentials.
 
I was really worried about transporting  him the next day, Tuesday, to the Palliative Care Unit which we usually did once a week. Even though we had a wheel chair and had only to navigate about two steps at a time – this time it all seemed very daunting.
 
I solicited Natasha too help but even with her the wheel chair became unmanageable, and Cliff was too weak to help either of us.
 
A neighbor saw us struggling, grabbed a wooden skid/ramp leaning up against their drive way fence (which was heavy), and brought it to us and then announced that in her day she had been a wheel chair operator. Quite expertly, she maneuvered the wheel chair down the makeshift ramp and helped us get Cliff into the car. We arrived at the appointment on time.

Later when I was expecting to go pick him up, Cliff called to tell me that they were keeping him overnight in Urgent Care. He was beginning to sound disoriented.
 
The next day, Wednesday, miraculously a bed opened up at Riverview Health Centre, Palliative Care. The next time I got to see him, he was staying this place that looks like a hospital outside in the hallway but felt like a hotel room with a medical bed -  wood floors, closets, etc. -  understandably he was disoriented by it all. By Saturday I was worried that the end was close and I wanted family  to come - see him one more time.

We had already planned to be together the May  long weekend. Sunday morning, Cliff and I would watch the live stream of Maplecrest then Larry, Odia and Georgia would be coming Sunday afternoon - and Syras, Natasha, Simeon and Anna would come on the Monday holiday so that we would minimize the risk of too many visitors at the same time.

I met with the doctors by chance that Sunday morning and even though they didn't give me any definitive answers – and even though Cliff was himself enough to joke with the doctors - I could read it in their eyes that there wasn't much strength left.

I was worried so I called Syras and Natasha to come in with the children, as well on Sunday rather then leave it till Monday.

I'm so glad I did. We all had a wonderful time Sunday afternoon with Cliff. He rallied for them.

By the time we left for supper, I wondered if we had another day.

Then we received a call. We went back.
 
He died around 8:00 that night. Sunday. May 22, 2022.
​
We had all  shed our tears, shared our love and said our goodbyes.

The world lost something very beautiful that evening when he left us ....

​I love you Cliff - miss you terribly....

After the rain storm the flowers are growing and shining - ready for the photographer....
 
Smiley….
 
A man walks into a dentist and says “I think I’m a moth”.
The dentist says “You need a doctor not a dentist”.
He replies “I know but your light was on”
 
The story continues……
 
***********************
 
While writing one of her books, my wife was trying to reconstruct a day and asked me when we had been interviewed by the media  on a certain day.
 
I said. "Three o'clock."  - with a measure of certainty.
 
“How can you be so certain?” she asked.
 
“Because I remember the afternoon sunlight on the reporters’ faces  - mid-afternoon shadows.”
 
She gasped. “Of all things that were going on for us - you remember the slant of the sun’s light into the room?”
 
I nodded.

Ever since I started this part of my autobiography, I knew I needed to identify the over-riding theme of my life story.

Perhaps this is the theme of my life, I have always been aware of the "light."

​I had learned the importance of light with my little box camera.
 
More than any other fundamental aspect of photography, light is at the heart of every image. Without light, photography cannot exist; it is the foundation of every image, giving shape and meaning to each scene.
 
From the soft mist hovering over a pool of water, to the drama of a setting sun, or the play of a moving rainbow, photography is simply: chasing the light.
 
So many elements combine to form a successful image –composition, subject matter, and camera settings – but light is different. Without it, one wouldn’t have a photograph in the first place.
 
Before I really knew who I was, I was recognized as an artist and found my first acceptable expression by taking pictures with my little black box camera.
 
Chasing the light expanded from there to every artistic expression I explored – right to the flowers that I painted at the end of my career which devoid of color became totally dependent on the play of light.
 
I also found myself chasing the light through the dark night of the soul.
 
The phrase, “dark night of the soul” is often used informally to describe an extremely difficult and painful period in one's life, for example, after the death of a loved one; the loss of a career; or the diagnosis of a life-threatening illness.
 
I’ve experienced all of those. I am still described as the father of Candace who at thirteen years old was abducted and murdered. I was also suspected and took a polygraph test to prove I was innocent.
 
These were the dark tunnels that I was known for, but I’ve had many others.  I was bullied, rejected, undermined and deemed a failure many times, each time finding myself on my knees in a dark night of the soul.
 
Finding the path through the darkness – walking towards the light- not giving up hope is not easy. I am reminded of those anger driven trucker days when all I saw was darkness. I didn’t even have the ability to chase the light – it was too dark to see.
 
At this point forgiveness was my light, I had to choose it again and again.
 
As my anger robbed me of my peace of mind and turned my brain into a funnel of cycling resentments, I had to fill it with the light of Jonah’s story. I had to memorize the entire story to over ride my out-of-control thoughts and cement the story into my mind, word by word.
 
As guilt and self-doubt clogged my creativity, I had to begin to work the clay, breaking it down, slamming it against the table, and violently choosing the road of forgiveness by turning evil into good – pouring my excellence into sculpting.
 
As the runaway blame came into play turning everyone else into a villain, I had to take responsibility of my own issues, pack them onto skids and drive them to the Grand Canyon to dump into the ravine - very deliberately channeling my nightmare into a story of hope.
 
The light of the forgiveness journey had to have a source. 
 
And right from the beginning I was always chasing the Light of the World so I could become more like him. As a young boy, I had glimpsed the power of that light in the northern lights on the open prairie and could never forget the force of light.
 
Sometimes I found myself chasing after the answers, trying to find the solution instead of chasing after the one who is the solution. 
 
Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” - John 8:12
 
“The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid? - Psalm 27:1
 
“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” - 1 John 1:5-7
 
Albert Einstein in his youth mentally chased beams of light. He was said to have spent his entire career chasing a ray of light. In all that study he never actually fully understood light, but in the process of pursuing it he made some of the most remarkable discoveries of his generation, and for generations to come.
 
That’s how it is with God. Pursuing God, we discover a remarkable life with Him.  Not to pursue Him, life would be so different, life becomes so much smaller.
 
To sum up my life, I would say, I too was chasing the light. It was often the combination of chasing flowers to take pictures of them in the bright sunshine that I encountered their Creator. I couldn’t help but continue the chase towards God’s light down the path of forgiveness that led me directly to the source of all light that of the cross, refilling my dark soul with peace, joy, hope and love.
 
It was worth the chase…. 

I have always been... 'Chasing the light!'
  

​Remembering - always.  Friends are remembering with me, mid morning coffee, breakfast specials and a large helping of memories. Even a book launch for an amazing author. 
  


​Smiley….
Don’t let your worries get the best of you.
Remember, Moses started out as a basket case.
 
And the story continues….
***********************
 
During one of our heart-to-heart March discussions, Wilma asked me what I would say as my parting words to my audience of readers, to my grandchildren, or even to my younger self.
 
I jokingly answered, "Do you want my deathbed sermon?"
 
She smiled…. "It is the most important sermon you will give."
 
I would need time to prepare, I thought,  envisioning myself sitting down as I used to – Bible in hand, referring to concordances, definition Greek dictionary, messages from other preachers, and of course a list of Bible verses.
 
“You’ve had a life time of study … something off the top of your head,” she encouraged me. 
 
I thought about it for a while and then I envisioned my blog reading audience…and started talking.
 
There is no doubt that I have already convinced everyone that I’ve had a dreadfully tough life. The murder of my daughter and being held suspect even for a day seems almost unbearable, and it was. But it didn’t end there. I was tested and tried on every level. I feel that I have truly earned the right to declare life as being unfair – unbearable  - and that I had the right to sink into a black hole of despair.

It is on this platform that I would first of all - like to say that God is love and God is good – and that life is worth the living. It is a privilege to have lived.
 
I can say this with confidence because I’ve seen God’s fingerprints, and felt his invisible hand hold me.
 
What do his invisible finger prints look like?
 
They look like little miracles  - those little unexplained coincidences that burst onto the scene making even the worst moment beautiful. It can be the symbolic rainbow of joy after the flood, that dove of peace that  appears with the twig of hope. It can be that angel that comes walking alongside – that looks like an ordinary person but gives that powerful message of love and caring that fills the cold heart with warmth. It can only be the timing of the Almighty.

At one point Wilma and I made a list of all the miracles in our lives  - those coincidences that only God could orchestrate.

For example there was the fact that the trials started on the day that Candace his body was found 26 years later exactly to the day. There were those visitors at the door on those news breaking critical days that came to point us in a new direction that we needed to go.
 
There were those prayers and words that resonated with us. They might have sounded like gibberish to everyone else, but we understood the meanings and were confirmed with those shivers sparked by God’s presence.  God was speaking to us.
 
I could go on and on.

Secondly, I would like to encourage everyone to explore forgiveness in a new way.
 
To forgive is not ever easy but with perseverance it can happen and conquer all. It is doable and God is committed to leading us down the path, sending us people to guide us, words to show us the way, and decorations of flowers to encourage us to keep on moving.
 
 I think forgiving is an unnatural, counter-intuitive practice, and we really don’t know how to do it. So it starts with the simple act of intention that grabs God’s attention and then He responds by bringing out the big guns of love for us to use and fulfill those intentions. There also seems to be a peculiar power that is released and  flows through us when we choose to forgive.

And when we have set our hearts right, he arranges the encounters for us so that we can act out what is in our hearts.
 
That’s why the intention to forgive is often more critical then the actual act. It invites the peculiar power of God to come in and partner with us as we walk through the healing process that demands not just one part of us but the four personhoods of our being to be transformed into something new. I could go on and on about the forgiveness process but I’m leaving it with you. If you choose – you are in good hands.
 
Thirdly, I do need to remind you that there is a caveat to this all.
 
“All things work together for good” is the promise but there is a caveat that limits this promise to times when our plans and intentions align with the goodness of God.

God is good - and can’t participate in evil. There’s a big mystery of how this is possible but an example of this could be that if we intend to do someone harm  and plot against them, God will not empower us. 
 
But if we intend to do good and show love then God comes along side and shows us how and gives us opportunity to do more good.
 
So often we think that we will only have power if we if we prove ourselves to be good. This is an impossibility. We can never be good enough - even our best is not good enough for God who is holy.

But the intention to do good is powerful. It is in the doing that we are redeemed.  

So even though I accept the fact that my life looks very tragic and difficult, in hindsight, I see it as being one long miracle.
 
With God, I have attained more than I could’ve if I had done it on my own. I have been rewarded. I’ve been connected.
 
I know without a doubt that there is a God who loves me.

So this is how I would love to encourage everyone, to try to do good, try to forgive and ask the holy God for wisdom.
 
Life can’t be done alone. It needs to be done in partnership with the Almighty. Its in this partnership that we will experienced all that God has promised. 
 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

  

Angels are still coming around... late night telephone calls... door bell rings... computers and organizational advice... one came carrying a hamper of wine and salads. They all glow... 


​Smiley….

So what if I don't know what "Armageddon" means?
It's not the end of the world.

The story continues….
*********************
 
In between our narrow social life, binging on movies and hockey there was still a lot of time to process the “act of dying.”

First of all, death was not new to us – even though it felt new. Our daughter had died 38 years ago which still sometimes felt like yesterday. Through her we had learned the importance of surrendering not only our lives to God but also our deaths.

I remembered the conversation that Wilma had with Candace when Candace was fighting her fears of death. Wilma had said, “…if you give your death to God and you die prematurely, God will see to it that your death will have as much impact as if you had lived out your entire life for him.”

My death, at the age of 76 might not seem premature to some, but it felt that way to me because my father had lived till his late nineties.

Surrendering my death to God, does not mean that I don’t believe in miraculous healing or that we shouldn’t have the elders come with oil and ask for healing which I did, but it does mean that even by doing this, I am still surrendering the timing of my death to God - knowing that if I submit my death to a loving God he will then empower the ministry of my life time just like he had with Candace to continue to minister long after I’m gone. Her memory had pixie dust, that still lives on today. 

Secondly we had to rewrite out the feeling that death is a curse resulting from our exercise of free choice in the garden of Eden.  Suffering is the curse; pain is the curse – though even these can be turned into good. Death itself is a gift – it is the escape from suffering when it gets too much to bear.

I had to trust that now as I was entering this valley of suffering, the painful process of when the spirit will leave a dying body – that it will be bearable, and when it gets too much for me, God has gifted me with a way to escape the pain by offering the body the oblivion of death. At some point I will want the relief of death.

Thirdly – we needed a new metaphor for death. This is where Wilma would wax with eloquence. Being a “Fig Tree” baby, she had been imprinted early on with the importance of discerning the end of days.

Actually, both of us had different concepts and understandings of the end times. We were both interested in the subject and spent hours studying it and discussing it – but always with a sense of play. We knew the future can not be known only anticipated.
In her last studies, Wilma had realized that the end times would not end in the death throes of life – but rather birth pangs as Jesus called it. In other words, death does not really mean an ending but a beginning.

What does this new beginning look like? As we talked about it   we started to think of death as a graduation ceremony of leaving the halls of learning and entering into the freedom of adulthood and the joy of the new kingdom where we could apply our learnings with abandonment.

This is when I started to put flesh on Heaven, reading about it, and imagining it as a new reality. The books changed my citizenship – I was no longer a mortal living in a dying body, but a graduate student, dressed in gown with diploma in hand waiting to get on with my new life.

Even at a graduation the feelings are mixed. There is a certain amount of grief in saying good bye to the old friends - but this is offset with the excitement of something new.

Even now it was sometimes hard to balance the two appropriately…
I had to honor Wilma’s tears…

Fourthly – there is a portal – a time when Heaven’s door opens. Wilma had personal experience with this with Candace’s death. She believes that Candace came back to say her good-bye. They had a supernatural encounter. as Candace was dying…

We know that when Christ died – the graves were opened.
There are countless stories of these ‘after death’ encounters.

Wilma expressed her desire for a sign from me after my death, 
she said she wanted a lightning bolt – “How hard can that be you’ll be in the skies…,” she laughed. 

I didn’t promise anything.

We also talked about the funeral a bit….Odia giving a story-studded eulogy, Syras a biblically-studded message.

These were tough conversations, that usually ended with a “Forgive me – I love you!” commitment over and over again.

It's been exactly a month - 
 
Smiley
How can you make God laugh?
Tell him your plans.
 
And the story continues
********************
By the time I came home from the hospital Tuesday - after being diagnosed with cancer the Saturday night, Wilma had already taken leave of all her responsibilities from being a therapist at Oakville, Maplecrest, and had laid out plans to disengage from her writer’s course. She was going to concentrate on the time we had left together.
 
I did the same. Our slates were wiped clean. We had nothing left to do but deal with the cancer.
 
Our new priorities were to make the most of our time with grandchildren and family. There were sleepovers, birthday parties and Easter celebration but that was all.
 
We were disappointed that the initial treatments at the hospital gave little relief until we learned about the problem with fluid retention, and the importance of the paranthesis drip – 4 liters and the need for hydration. So this meant setting up contact with Cancer Care and then Palliative Care all which took some time – but not all of it.
 
Mainly we just tunneled and hid.
 
In some ways March resembled a staycation – hiding in our bedroom staying safe and comfortable.
 
In March there were at least 16 hockey games averaging one every other night. This was at a time when the Jets still had hope of making the play – offs so every game was important. I was interested in Ehlers, Wilma in Kyle Conner. We both liked Wheeler and Scheifele and were watching Dubois with interest. Just prior to this Wilma had begun to take interest in hockey and was beginning to enjoy watching with me. Now we could binge together. It was perfect.
 
It seemed for the first time, where we could legitimately excuse ourselves from everything and not feel guilty.
 
If we weren’t watching hockey, we were watching movies choosing mostly stories that highlighted creativity, writing and artists - but it didn’t matter much what we watched.
 
Both of us came out of a background that banned movies so when we were finally free of church obligations in our first honeymoon year in Vancouver, the first movie we went to see was the classic “Gone with the Wind.” But after that anything that showed up in our little theatre down the street was fair game. The next one we saw was the “Midnight Cowboy” which made us sit up straight. It was an edgy movie and at that time described as staggering, shattering, heartbreaking, hilarious, tragic, and raw. 

It was a huge learning for us and after that we decided that every movie is worth it – not necessarily for its artistic or moral value -  but for the conversation after.
 
The last Friday of March, which is usually our movie night anyway, Wilma and I watched - “Life in a Year." a movie that follows a 17-year old young man who falls madly in love with a girl who is dying and has one year left to live. He sets out to give her the last wishes of her life in the year she has left.
 
Not sure why we chose this move but once we were into it – we were riveted. It’s a beautiful courageous story of love.
 
Each movie that we saw seemed to be designed to create conversation.
 
Our hockey/movie binging kept us sane, our movies kept us connected – so it was the best of the worst.
 
In March I tried chemo therapy and decided that the weakness, the discomfort and the brain fog – wasn’t worth it. I wanted clarity more than anything. I didn't want to live in pain - just for the sake of living.
 
By the end of the month, I had gone down from about 160 pounds to 128 – my bones were sticking out like I was living through a famine.  My belly was extended. It wasn’t pretty. I just knew that this was happening faster than we had anticipated
 
We applied for a medical bed and commode.
I was also preparing mentally ….

It takes patience to take a picture like this.... a little bee poised on a flower. 
It takes patience to deal with a failing body.  We still have so much to learn from you, Cliff.


​​
Smiley....
I accidently used the dog's shampoo this morning.
Now I feel like a good boy.

The story continues....
**********************************
That first night, alone in my hospital room - as I was struggling to come to terms with what I was hearing - Wilma was keeping the family informed. By early Sunday morning we were all face-timing and making plans to meet that afternoon. All knew it was terminal.
 
Needless to say, we were all traumatized, shocked and disoriented.
 
Since both our son, Syras, and our son-in-law, Larry, were speaking in their respective churches that morning, they wondered whether they should tell their congregations about my cancer diagnosis. Did we as parents want them to keep this as a family secret?
 
This was a hard question. Full integrity in the pulpit is important to the life of any church at all times.
 
But going public is a tough decision. After the murder of our daughter  we instinctively wanted to hide and nurse our wounds but the media came calling with microphones in their hands. As tough as it was, we had decided early on that our role was to live openly – no secrets- so that we could be a light to ourselves and to others. It was never easy.
 
To choose to be a light is to choose to be vulnerable.  Being vulnerable means that we are open to being wounded at a time when we are especially fragile.  It is a risk but it also allows for authentic communication and connection.
 
Even though I was quaking in my shoes -  knowing that I was going into a time of complete vulnerability -  I don’t think there is anything more vulnerable as death.  Yet  I am convinced, it is what we are called to do. Vulnerability also allows goodness to shine in us and others.
 
So I said “yes” to releasing our children from any attempt at secrecy which meant that Wilma also had to send out a few quick emails that day to our own siblings letting them know and to encourage them to pass on the news to the other members of our extended family.
 
These days, with social media, once the news was out there was no controlling it. It went out very quickly. In fact  response there was a tidal wave of prayer and support which gave rise to more questions. People wanted more details. Why so suddenly? Were we sure it was terminal?
 
Seven days after the diagnosis I resorted to a blogging to explain to everyone what had happened. It was full exposure  – to the point where I talked about “my dark night of the soul.”
 
That led to a call from John Longhurst Winnipeg Free Press well known faith reporter and good friend of ours. The story appeared Mar. 14, 2022
 
It was an excellent article which described my experience when reading Jeremiah 29:11: "’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord."
 
Longhurst interviewed me. "God was telling me to just be myself and live my life," Derksen said.
 
One thing he plans to do with his remaining time is finish his life story, something he’s been poking away at for awhile. "Now I have a deadline!" he said with a laugh.
 
In fact, that’s one thing he wants to do as much as possible: laugh.
"I’ve gained a new appreciation for jokes," he said, adding he wants people to send him as m any as possible. "Brilliant or groaners, it doesn’t matter."
 
He also interviewed Wilma. "My theology has always been not to expect life to be perfect," she said. "The challenge is to make something beautiful out of the difficult things that come our way, to make beauty out of ashes. I believe suffering can be turned into good. I can see God working through it."
 
This led to a call from Mike Thom  & Colleen Houde  from CHVN –
who interviewed me on air.
 
And this led to a beautiful response from the public offering encouragement, prayers and jokes - great one-liners.
 
The story was out there
 
What I felt to be a sacrifice was truly a blessing.
 

We have come full circle. These are blogs that were published in the beginning of this series. They are now serving as a refresher of how it all started. We are revisiting his "coming to terms" with his impending death ... which became even more important right to the end.
​ 
How do you prevent a Summer cold?
Catch it in the Winter!

The story continues...
​***************************
My next blue post-it-note led me to Psalms 23 - a heartfelt shepherd kind of relationship with his people.
 
Then I wept through that entire passage.  “The Lord is my shepherd; I will not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
 
God was my friend taking care of me like a shepherd. He was kindnesses and love I was close to him. I had a new sense of his presence.
 
He knew where I was in the hospital hearing the news for the first time from the doctors, and he was protecting and comforting me.  I was a sheep in his hands. It's like people who love their dogs look after their dogs hold their dogs. 
 
By this time there was another verse that was floating in my memory. It had been like a theme since I was admitted into Urgent Care.
 
"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28.
 
The important words are “who are the called according to his purpose.”  I had chosen God years ago when I was 6 or 7 years of age, and I had spent a whole life being a child of God so I could claim this verse... I don’t have to understand I just need to know the truth.
 
When you consider all things,  I just have to trust. I'm a little sheep. I don't know what is going on.... How can I outguess the Creator? I know God and I know who I am. I am not God. If he can organize the world, he will set me on track for the next four to nine months. 
 
So, I let that rest for awhile.
 
Then as I paged through Corinthians, I didn’t read any of it. I just remembered the life of Paul. Recently I had listened to the pod casts that explored the life of Paul as a new vital dispensation. 
 
Paul was important. Without Paul’s writings and explanation, we would have not had the message of salvation as clear. His preaching changed everything... He clarified how Jesus’ blood saves us.  Paul went beyond that into the third fourth heaven and came back with a new message without Paul we wouldn’t have that clarity.
 
Paul did not shrink back. He suffered. He was left for dead more times than you can count, maimed, broken and in agony. He didn't avoid it When he was in Rome shackled to a guard, he would bring the guard to the Lord.
 
Traditions has it that when he was about to be executed, as much as he could he ran eagerly to the block. 
 
I thought if Paul can run towards the block; I can be okay with the months I have left. I will just do my best to share my journey and trust in God. Through my writings, I might be the only person who might reach that one other person who needs to be encouraged like I have been.
 
I have a unique place now, a platform to tell my story and give my message. 
 
That's how I regained my peace. That’s how I solved it.
 
And then I realized I had to tell Wilma about my ending. I hadn’t seen her since she dropped me off at the Victoria hospital. She called me that morning and told me that the children were gathering at the house and she would come with them.
 
I was worried...  I wanted to break the news to her personally. I told her to come alone. She was very quiet. By the time she came to visit me in my hospital bed, I could tell that she envisioned the worst and believe I might have only one week to live. So, when I told her I had maybe months, she was relieved.
 
And then we realized the seriousness of it all over again. They had also said without chemo - four months.  And we cried. And we laughed.... And we cried.

Then I told her about my assignment to finish my autobiography.
 
She asked me the theme  – what would be the greatest learnings of my life.

And I outlined it for her - even at this point, I knew....
​

Had an amazing hot day at a ball game and then a long family swim in an amazingly comfortable pool, ending with BBQ farmer sausage for dinner and a long meaningful insightful conversation after.  It was the best given the circumstances.....Thank you for your prayers  -- they were answered beautifully. 
 
Smiley….
What's the difference between ignorance and apathy? 
I don’t know and I don’t care.

And the story continues….
 ***********************
I visited a walk-in clinic late Saturday afternoon because of  annoying constipation symptoms and problems. After a rather quick examination I was sent to Urgent Care for one test and examination after another. Then before I knew it I was transferred to a bed in the cancer ward at St. B. I was still in a sleepy daze when two doctors came to see me early the next morning. 
 
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes peering at me over her mask as she told me as kindly as she could that as far as they could tell, I had Gallbladder Cancer at Stage 4. Then she added “And there will be no surgery.”  I asked her how long .... "about four months to live - tops nine months."  The words were cruel, yet she was so kind.
 
After she left, I just sat there. My first reaction was to count the months… I had nine months to live. October -  maybe I had till November.
 
My second reaction was how could I tell Wilma? In nine months, I would leave our relationship. I imagined her living all alone in the big house. This would be a big change for both of us.  
 
Then I lay down in my bed and just went over it again and again – every word.
 
How come I hadn’t seen this coming?  I had had no warning.  I had had no voice... no prophecy. Now suddenly I was being faced with the biggest life changing event in my life. Even the doctor had said it was an unlucky chance. It was a silent cancer and I had no precipitating factors.  I don’t believe in unlucky chances.
 
I sat up in bed pulled out my big Bible that Wilma had stuck in my overnight bag.  I needed to talk to my God. I needed something to help me to put this together.
 
My Bible was tagged with blue post-it-notes from the preparation I had done for the Spirit Room in anticipation of those I would give prophetic words for edification, encouragement and consolation. But because I hadn’t been feeling well, I hadn’t  attended and given them to anyone. Maybe they were for me… now  here in the cancer ward at the St. B.
 
I went to the first blue post-it-note.
 
My Bible opened to Jeremiah 29. 
 
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD
 
I felt God right there. I was impacted like crazy.... Here I was talking to God – asking him what this was all about…and here was his answer.
 
I couldn’t believe it. It was bang on
 
He was saying "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Heaven was a good thing. I couldn't react to the news and say that Heaven would be a bad place
 
I cried and cried
 
I kept reading it over and over again - and cried.
 
I calmed down after a while.
 
Then I needed to know the context. Where does this come from?  So I scanned the top of the page - I had read it before - but now it had a new angle to it, a new meaning, a new importance.
 
The passage was written to exiles living along the river as captives. The first directive God gives them is to continue what they are doing - not to worry but just continue. Then the LORD says: "When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place."
 
There it was “70 years” the specific number of years stuck out, jumped off the page. God isn't messing around! God is in the timing.
 
When I read this, I said to myself. “Cliff, you have to do your normal life – just continue what you were intending to do which was finish my autobiography. God knows. God is planning."
 
I calmed right down.
 
I had a purpose… I needed to finish this book.