Enjoying Art Therapy --- fixing one of my sculptures with assistance ....​ working on an art piece still gives me joy.

​Smiley joke
"Why was the artist in jail?" Cause he was framed.

I know this isn't an easy story but I will continue.....

**********
 
I felt helpless standing on the sidelines watching Dave mobilize the community. 

​Candace had disappeared Friday evening, and  to our amazement, by Saturday Dave had organized the first ground search, Sunday had been designated a day of prayer and all churches had been alerted. And to top it all off he had also arranged for an article in the Sunday SUN newspaper.  

By Monday morning he had pulled together the beginnings of a search committee! Why is this "whirlwind" not our Prime Minister of Canada?

The people chosen were,  Dave Teigrob representing MBCI and our church, River East Mennonite Brethren; Harold Jantz, editor of The Mennonite Brethren Herald; Henry Wedel, a schoolteacher; Dave DeFehr of Palliser Furniture; and his wife, Ester.

I remember walking into the room and looking over the composition of the committee; I sensed the power of it.  We had representatives from the largest camp in Manitoba, the largest private school, one of the more powerful churches in Winnipeg, the Mennonite paper, and the largest western Canadian furniture business.  This group was nothing to be sniffed at.

But what was far more important was something else I knew about them.  I knew that all of them were known for their integrity.

This was what that beautiful Bible passage about bearing each other's burdens was all about.  This was what scripture meant about each believer having a different gift and each having a different role to play.  Everyone playing his or her part makes for a powerful team.

Dave Loewen with his organizational ability, Dave Teigrob with his school counseling experience and interchurch connections, Harold Jantz with his media know-how, and Ester DeFehr with a mother's perspective.  The committee was complete. 

At this founding meeting the  "Candace Derksen Citizens Search Committee" was formally organized. Their mandate was to raise funds to cover expenses; receipts would be given for all donations, which would be handled by Camp Arnes.  There was also talk about the possibility of offering a reward for information, about raising money for a private detective, about stepping up the poster distribution, and about organizing a press conference.
 
The first item on the agenda was that they had arranged for a a few reporters to come to our home later that afternoon.

Having the cameras coming into our little living room was an experience.

I think I noticed again how Wilma and my roles were being clarified, she was encouraged to be emotional, which she was anyway, I was needed to be the strategist and to encourage the actual search - which I found to be a needed distraction.

After our television appearance, we sensed a totally different attitude from the police.  Inspector Heintz of the Juvenile Division told the media that the police were more concerned about Candace's safety with each passing day.  "Statistics show that kids who run away usually return within two days," he told the media.  "While there's no evidence suggesting foul play, we're certainly concerned about the situation."

Then the  search committee printed posters with the captivating question "Have you seen Candace?" at the top and a big picture and a brief description of her underneath.  They were printed on bright orange paper that could be spotted miles away.

Their next project was to organize another ground search of the area, this time by the students.  The police were very cooperative in helping to brief the fifty MBCI seniors who wanted to go out and search on Tuesday.  Five students from Kildonan East Regional Secondary School also joined in the search.  The school had decided to recheck the entire area that Candace walked home from school.  This time the search included the nearby riverbank and the railway tracks.  The police supervised the entire search.

While searching, the students distributed the flyers and asked the residents near the school if they had seen or heard anything unusual during the last five days.  The students did a marvelous job.  In an hour-long blitz covering a twelve-square-block area, they distributed approximately one thousand flyers to residents and businesses of the area. Many of the businesses posted the picture in their front windows.

Soon after that two prominent Mennonites each donated a large sum of money; because of this, it became apparent that the committee needed a person to take charge of the search fund.  Len DeFehr, Ester and Dave's cousin, was asked to come on as administrative secretary for the committee.

In a few days after the search and media blitz the public started to respond but it was disappointing that all the calls were still leading to dead ends.
 
In the days that followed the search committee kept pushing.  They started to investigate the street life of Winnipeg.  Was there a sex ring in the city?  No, the police weren't aware of any organized prostitution.  Then they started looking into the idea of a private investigator. 

One organization again suggested a reward.  "It could be bait for people on the fringe, but it should be done in conjunction with the police," they told us.

The committee moved on this suggestion and found it wasn't easy setting up a reward.  Just establishing the amount of the reward had many ramifications.  The reward couldn't be overwhelmingly large so as to tempt a law-abiding citizen to lie, yet it had to be significant enough to appeal to someone on the fringe of society and make it worth their while to speak up.  We finally settled on a reward of two thousand dollars.

A contract was set up with the police and the wording was approved.  The reward money was sponsored by The Candace Derksen Citizens Search Committee and was to be raised through private business people, but it was to be administered by the Winnipeg Police.  A poster similar to the ones first distributed was designed.  The initial print run was for five thousand copies, and MBCI students were again solicited to distribute most of the posters. 

The reward was announced on December 19, nineteen days into our search.  At that time the police also announced they had placed our case on a North America-wide alert.

The committee didn't stop there.  They lobbied politicians like Jake Epp, then Canada's minister of health and Bill Blaikie, a federal member of Parliament.  Blaikie responded by sending a letter to the minister of justice, John Crosbie.  He wrote, "[Candace's disappearance] has, however, provided members of our community with a tragic opportunity to become acquainted with the facts concerning the numbers of missing children, and the not unreasonable fear that many such children have been abducted for purposes of child pornography and child prostitution."
 
Six weeks into this unbelievable search, Dave told us that  he was leaving on a trip west to recruit counselors for summer camp.  He stopped by the house to pick something up, and we asked if he had a few minutes to talk.  He didn't, of course, but he sat down anyway.

Wilma and I sat on the sofa, and Dave relaxed in the armchair.  I think that's when it hit all of us; throughout the whole six weeks the three of us had never really sat down and talked.  

Dave had been doing triple duty.  He had covered for me in the office, kept up with his own work, and chaired all the search committee meetings.  We knew the camp was far behind schedule in their summer promotions and summer staff recruitment, the key factors to the success of the summer. 

Dave had sacrificed much, so it was good to be able to relax for a few moments and tell Dave in person how much we appreciated his work.

He listed his hopes for the committee and then said,   "We'll wait until I get back, and then we'll talk about this all again," he said.

By the time he returned everything had changed again....

We were incredibly thankful at the time for everything. It felt as if the entire city was loving on Candace and our family during our darkest moments. 

I am still in awe.... what a amazing gift Dave gave us. He was an angel, a prophet, a friend, and a man of God. Thank you Dave, we love you and Elfrieda, you will never be forgotten!
 

Today someone stopped by the house and told me her forgiveness story. I was filled with joy. Thank you.

Also thank you for your jokes. I can't publish them all but I do read them and smile.

The story continues....

 ************

Not sure how I slept. Wilma was haggard the next morning. There was still no sign of Candace.

In desperation I called Dave Loewen, the director of Camp Arnes.
He was still asleep but I didn't care. I needed him. I briefly told him what had been happening, and, after a few questions much like what the police had been asking, Dave announced, "You need a search party.  You need a lawyer.  I'll make some calls."  With the same questions, the same answers, he had come to an entirely different conclusion than the police had.  He believed us!

The difference was he had seen Candace and her friend, Heidi, all summer hanging out  together like a David and Johnathan friendship.  When he heard that Candace was expecting Heidi to come in from Gimli the next day - he just knew. 

After my call, I learned later that Dave Loewen had called the president of the Camp Arnes board, Dave DeFehr, a member of the prominent DeFehr family that owned Palliser Furniture.  DeFehr had offered his help.  Dave had then called two lawyers for legal advice and to establish the parameters of a private search.  He had also called the police for their support, asking if they would brief the search party on what to do.  They had agreed.

Dave had also called the rest of the Camp Arnes board, the MBCI teachers, and everyone else he could think of to form a search committee. 

He asked me to join them and to bring as many pictures of Candace as possible.
 
Between twenty-five and thirty people showed up at one o'clock at the school.  They were briefed by a police representative, who told them that they could look along any back alley and into any trash can that they chose because such were considered public property, but they were to be extremely careful when they approached private property.  They needed to ask permission to search any yard, and if they wanted to search an abandoned shed or garage, it was important that the owner accompany them.  Under no circumstances were they to wander around private property or look into windows.  If they did see anything suspicious, they were to write it down and report it to the police.

The group was divided into teams of twos and threes, and each team was given different streets to search.  They were given an area map and a picture of Candace.  Everyone was told to report back to the school at a given time.
 
Before the group dispersed they asked Harold Jantz, editor of The Mennonite Brethren Herald, to see if he could use his media contacts to get Candace's picture in The Winnipeg Sun.  Since the next day was Sunday, each person was to go back to his or her church and request prayer for Candace.
 
Candace's picture was slated to appear in the next day's edition of The Winnipeg Sun.  I found myself wondering if the public would believe us.  Would the cold, windy of city of Winnipeg believe us?

At that time, Winnipeg was a city of around 650,000 people, set right in the middle of Canada.  It's probably best known for its extreme temperatures: hot, dry summers and frigid winters.  At the time of Candace's disappearance there were nineteen thousand Mennonites in forty-seven churches.  Usually this wouldn't be particularly important.  But with our daughter missing, we were looking for the largest support base we could find. 

But the most important item of the day was to contact prayer chains and update the information before the Sunday.

I could not believe what Dave had done in one day.. he had mobilized the city.  

We were not alone anymore.

But at end of day -- the driving question .... "Have you seen Candace?" was not answered. With that many people being aware something should have come up - some hint, some clue - some sighting. The eerie quietness filled us with unspeakable dread.

Wilma knew --.

But that did not stop us from hoping....

Notice that lovely bushy tail of our latest visitor. This is our entertainment. 

​A sad joke....
"What does a cloud wear under his raincoat?"
Thunderwear.

Our story changes.... 

********
It was Friday, November 30, 1984. 
​
The weather was comfortable in the beginning of the day; the temperature slightly above normal. 

I had spent the day working at the Camp Arnes office hovering over my huge wooden desk – designing the next brochure.

It was about 4:00 that Wilma called and asked me if it was one of those “Friday” where everyone was leaving the office early. I looked around – no it was going to be one of those “Fridays” where everyone worked just a little longer.

"Pick me up at five." I answered.

At five I heard the car pull up and went out the back door. The weather had changed… the temperatures were plunging.

I also sensed immediately that something else was wrong. There was a panic in Wilma’s eyes. "I can't find Candace, Cliff, and I'm worried."

Wilma isn’t an alarmist so I knew this was serious. There is something to be said for fifteen years of marriage - not every thought has to be voiced to be understood.  We didn't have time to talk because once we were in the car, we would appear calm for the children's sake, Odia and Syras sitting in the back seat. 

I decided to pass Candace's School, MBCI on our way home, then drove slowly – back tracking the route that Candace would have taken walking home from school. The city suddenly looked abandoned. Everyone taking shelter from this new cold front sweeping into the city. No sign of our oldest child!

Once home, Wilma started to call around, researching the lists of friends. But I  needed to get out there and walk,  do my own foot search.

The first walk back to the school, I simply retraced Candace's steps that she would have taken, looking for signs of anything unusual! I felt incredibly self conscious! What actually was I expecting to find? There was no signs of anything, none of her stuff on the sidewalk, no signs of anything weird.  

On the way back, I started going down the back alleys all in the direction of home. I had this uncomfortable feeling that I still wasn’t searching thoroughly enough, to do this I would need to look into the dumpsters, behind them, look between houses, around garages etc.!  And if I did look into the dumpsters,  I was gripped with the fear of what I might find!  I started peeking in random dumpsters, peering in dark corners, searching, peeking behind objects. It was getting dark, tears running down my face, obscuring my vision and freezing. What if she was out here, in the dark, alone....?

When I got home, I knew it was time to call the police. It was about seven-thirty.

The police came! We were so relieved! Their questions were precise and systematic, but all of them were fashioned to confirm the underlying supposition that every disappearing thirteen-year-old is a runaway. We tried our best to explain that she had plans, that her best friend from Steinbach was coming over for the weekend and that there was  no way she would abandon her friend, any friend because she was all about friends in her life!  That this was an event she'd prepared for all week! 

The more we pushed the more they pushed back saying we were religious and out of touch with teenagers of today! That she'd show up at school on Monday morning! Therefore they refused to at that point to announce her as a missing child! We were very disappointed to say the least!

 After they left, I needed to get out and do something. Wilma did her research her way – I did mine by going out and searching. 

I started by walking west down Gray Street  towards the railway tracks, Nairn Ave. looming ahead on my left. This part of the railway tracks had been turned into a community park of sorts. I walked along crossing the railway tracks towards the far side of the overpass on my left, my runners filling with snow.  I stopped,  but heard and saw nothing unusual. Except my feet getting wet and cold! 

Then, at the west end of the overpass, I turned left  crossed underneath into the shade "moon-shade" underneath the bridge. I was shocked at the depth of the shade the moon was casting, and ran across into the moonlight, high stepping it because of the deep snow getting into my runners! 

That’s when I realized the storm had passed the moon was out. I stopped, looking around in the fresh light of the moon. The stars were shining, the moon was bright. 

“How can you give me  so much light "GOD" and not show me where my daughter is?” I called her name – several times, her name echoing in the steely silence and cold -  and just stood there waiting for something, an answer, cold, in the snow up to my knees. The stars continued to shine but nothing, God wasn’t responding. The beauty of the night mocked me! I felt the darkness of my pain, Tears, gasping for air, weeping in pain for what horrors my oldest child might be experiencing right now! 

Then, turning my wet face to the skies, I filled my lungs with bitter cold air and let out a long blood curdling scream!

Nothing changed! But, did she hear me? (The shack where she was found was not that far away!)

At nine-thirty we telephoned the police again, again they assured us that they would put out an city alert.

We waited by the telephone – surely someone would call.

Then approximately eleven o'clock that night, two uniformed police officers appeared on our door step.

This time it was obvious that they had come to investigate us.
They wanted to know what kind of parents we were.  What was our relationship with Candace like?  Had we argued with her?  Was she upset that I hadn't picked her up?

After a few more questions, they more or less told us that they thought it was extremely unlikely that Candace had been abducted.

They told us that there are approximately a hundred runaway teens on the streets of Winnipeg at any given time; any child over twelve who disappears is probably a runaway.  We were also told that there hadn't been any abductions in Winnipeg for seven to ten years, so what made Candace any different than all the other cases with which they were dealing?  Why couldn't we just admit to ourselves that we'd had a quarrel with Candace and she had run away?

 I told them that I worked for Camp Arnes, the largest Christian camp in Manitoba, and that I had been a pastor at North Battleford Mennonite Brethren Church.  I thought that if anything would immediately impress on them our solid family values, integrity, and love, it would be our Christian commitment.

The more outspoken officer perked up and said, "I know what the problem is."

We both straightened.  "What?"

"You," he answered, glancing at both of us.

"What do you mean?"  I groped to understand.

He spelled it out.  "You're both religious, and Candace is rebelling."
We continued to describe the relationship Candace had with her friend. She might run away – we weren’t the best parents. But – and it was a huge but - she would not have run away this weekend.

Eventually, still looking skeptical, the two officers took her picture, promising to put it on city wide computer and to cruise the community.  At that point we were grateful for crumbs.

However, their visit gave me a new perspective. This was the first hint that this wasn’t only about a disappearance, we were on trial as well. We needed to go on the offense. We needed to alert the organizations that were involved. I called the school Dave Teigrob at MBCI.

By this time people were already in bed but I wasn’t about to be deterred.

"I'm sorry if Dave is sleeping, but this is an emergency."

In answer to my questions, Teigrob said Candace was in good spirits when he saw her and was as puzzled as we were.

When the front doorbell rang around midnight, Dave Teigrob, the school counselor and vice president of MBCI.  "I couldn't go back to sleep," he explained simply.

He had nothing to offer us, he said, other than to stay with us.  He sat on our couch and told us over and over again that his last encounter with Candace had left no reason for alarm. It was exactly what we wanted to hear.

By two o'clock there was nothing left to say. Dave assured us that he would call us in the morning, and we would be fresh with new ideas.  By then Candace might have called.
​
I was exhausted. He gave us hope.

Catching a bird in flight! ​
By the way - our delightful birds, who entertain us are quite messy eaters, something you will notice if you come to visit.

Smiley for today:  
What do you call a hippie's wife? A Mississippi!

My story continues.....
(By the way I do welcome any additional insights, details and corrections. Thank you. )
​
​********

I was very happy working for Camp Arnes. I really was, but  - and there was a "but." Even though Camp Arnes was known for its ability to support their staff financially, it wasn't enough to support my family of three children. 

Not wanting to distract me from my ministry, my wife thought it was her turn now to step up to the plate and shoulder some of the financial responsibility!  

However, she had been conditioned  - as many young mother’s were at the time -  that a good mother was a “stay at home” mother. Even though mothering didn’t come naturally to Wilma, her children were very precious to her so she was determined to stay at home to raise her children to be the best they could be.
 
Her views changed when some of her wealthier friends who had had the luxury of staying at home and devoting themselves entirely to their children – had not been successful. In fact, many of these children were turning out to be young offenders.

Then she realized that there are no guarantees when it comes to children. But even though parents might not determine a child's future, they did have a responsibility to make sure the children were fed, dressed and well educated. To do this she needed to go back to work to support me in my dreams as well as her children's dreams.
 
She wondered if she could do this as a writer.... Over the years she had always pursued her interest in writing on the side - script  writing and freelance writing for the local newspapers. She had in fact developed quite a resume as a freelancer - which doesn't pay all that well. 
 
Now she set her sights on a course, "Creative Communication"  at Red River Community College that had a great reputation for turning out marketable and trained journalists. She found funding and grants that would help her take it and submitted her resume. It was a two-year  course known as a "boot camp" training for journalists.  When she applied many of the teachers were skeptical that she would be able to juggle three children plus the deadlines and demands of the course, but since her resume was so compelling, they had no excuse but to admit her.
 
We discovered that the course was indeed a boot camp  which forced us to reorganize our home into a boot camp, highly organized and disciplined. Actually Camp Arnes was also a boot camp of sorts as well.  There were high expectations on all levels.

I thought the stress of "boot camping" it on three levels, might destroy our family but I think we all thrived. We had a goal! We were working hard together! We worked hard and played hard! 
 
Candace, now a pre-teen - was emerging as a very capable young woman. With her sanguine personality, she was a natural caregiver of the two younger ones Odia, seven, and Syras, one years old. She naturally stepped into her role as second mother.
 
So we were on a two-year voyage, the "boot camping" boat was solid, the direction set and the far beach was in sight. Plus, the crew loved being together, and worked well together. We were very optimistic - we could do this! And we did.
 
In fact the two years flew by. When Wilma graduated, she began working by taking contract work - but this time paid well. It looked promising. The money was starting to roll in which meant we now had the money to enroll Candace in a private school because she had some of the same learning challenges I had as a kid.
 
We were two of a kind  actually -  so I was eager to help her. I found that if I tutored her in the evening, her marks improved remarkably. We were bonding in a new way. 

Like socks....she loved my white socks stored in my top dresser drawer - (apparently they were whiter) and was always stealing them even though she had her own. It was a fun contest, an indication of who she was and who I was.
 
As a family we had never been happier. We loved Winnipeg, loved being together as a family. I loved my job – Wilma loved her writing projects. We were attending the nearby flourishing River East MB Church which had a wonderful teaching ministry.
 
For the first time- we felt confident we were on the path God had set out for us.
 
And then....

Can you see the deer in our front window? So blessed.

Bad Joke for the day...
If you’re American when you go in the bathroom…… and American when you come out, what are you in the bathroom?
European

Continuation of the story....... 

******
Working for Camp Arnes felt like a homecoming for me.
 
At the time Camp Arnes was one of the biggest children’s camp in Canada…run by the very capable and dynamic Dave Loewen.
 
Dave was amazing in his recruitment of staff.
 
He would zero in on someone he thought had potential and say, “I need you!”  making that person feel like a million bucks. He had the gift of placing people – knowing their gifts better than they did themselves.
 
And that’s what he was like with me  - immediately. It was as if he saw all of me. 

I started working out of the city office in the promotions department, designing a symbolic tree camp logo with the theme, “a place to grow.”  i was so proud of that logo -- and working for that camp. 

Being in promotions meant that I had to design the brochures, produce a slide show and other promo pieces for the various programs Camp Arnes would run in a summer. The upright background held posters and a screen for slides which ran on the table projecting exciting camp pictures continually! The table part also included more information and handouts for potential staff etc. This way  the display was always ready to respond to any church, Bible school, mall or social event that would have us.
 
This meant travelling and staying at schools for a week or more with the display, even prepared to put on a program, tell a kids story in church, preach and so one. 

The best weeks were in spring when we as camps would spend a week at a mall – a row of about eight display tables. Even though we might be seen as competition, in reality we were all good friends. One time I found our carousel of slides on a different table – all in good fun.  All of us just wanted the children of Winnipeg to attend a camp any camp knowing that it would be a life changing opportunity.

Here's something interesting that happened one summer! I had booked a church church in the Steinbach area, and felt some crazy vibes from the people around me as I was setting up my display etc. They looked at me strangely, talked amongst themselves but never said a thing all Sunday morning. When I went home and  discovered that they had confused me with Camp Director Cliff Dirks so instead of getting to know all about Red Rock Bible camp they were exposed to Camp Arnes! Cliff and I had a great chuckle over that one. Actually got some great volunteers that worked for Camp Arnes for several years.
 
In the summer months, I literally left the city with my family and stayed at camp. I remember how shocked my children were when one time we went back into the city in the middle of summer and they could not believe that some people actually stayed in the city for the summer!  I always appreciated this built-in holiday time for our growing family.
 
In the summer I was the Pony Unit director with my own staff –who were cabin leaders in cabins with about 8 children ages 7 to 9.
 
At the time, I created a new curriculum for the Unit based on the story of Jesus being the gentle shepherd.
 
(It’s amazing how all of it is coming back to me now that I have cancer. The vision I got upon learning I had cancer was about being a little lamb held tightly, in love, to the bosom of my shepherd.)
 
Our Pony Unit program included mini worship services every morning in the Wigwam – that uniquely wigwam styled building right at the lake edge with that row of windows and the impressive fire place.
 
This was where I could indulge in my giftings, playing my guitar and singing. “I just want to be a sheep… baa baa” or “This little light of mine” or “Mathilda the Gorilla.” I literally had a suitcase of magic tricks and a supply of balls that I could make disappear and reappear magically.

I could tell stories, preach mini sermons to my heart’s content, knowing that I was teaching young kids about God – their guide, their  savior, and friend.
 
After wigwam they would spend the rest of the day participating in camp programs; archery, horses, swimming, sailing - always being challenged to learn new skills.

Meanwhile I was also all over the camp taking pictures of "everything" for next summers promotional materials.
   
Then I was back at the camp office for the winter – where I worked with the winter staff. Dave, the director, the visionary where we hatched all kinds of ideas for materials for promoting next summer camping programs. His wife Elfrieda the office administrator was excellent in keeping us all organized and then there was the most creative program director, Lily Loewen – who lead the Leadership Training program that changed lives.

One friend tells the story of being in the LTP program and Lily instructed them all to find a tree and tell its story. He thought it a ridiculous exercise and resisted it until the others began to share their stories. Lily was able to point out their tree story to the parallels in their own lives and bring out huge personal learnings.  He quickly participated then - found his tree and told his story - and experienced a huge life learning. Lily was a therapist who also used natural sand trays way before they were discovered by psychologists. 

Another friend told another story of a Lily - life changing story. "She had a bowl of oranges which we all snacked on while joking around, washing our hands in the lake when done. She then asked us to go get the orange juice out of the lake, which of course was impossible. Then she landed the simple but profound lesson I've never forgotten, 'That's how impossible it is to take away God's love for you.' Thank you Lily. "

Back at the office we had a great year round staff. One of our traditions was to have a  "staff lunch" every Friday when one of the staff was assigned to bring in the lunch. Quite soon after joining the staff, every one noticed my aversion to vegetables and apparently anything healthy -- remember I was a peanut butter and jam child. 

Their biggest challenge was to "fool" me into healthy eating. I remember one time really enjoying a cake dessert thinking it was safe - I had apparently survived a veggie test. After finishing this delicious cake, they happily announced that I had eaten vegetables - it was apparently a "carrot cake." Success! I went home and told my wife that I loved carrot cake - it was something new to us at that time. 

When I think back on the setting, the staff, the programs, the leadership, I'm not surprised that Camp Arnes was the largest camp in Canada – with the most powerful impact……My quest to find expression for all of my gifts was over  - I had arrived.
 
I was fulfilled! I was having an impact, and it was good!
 
According the parable about talents in the Bible  – some are given five talents, some two and some one.
 
Wilma always talked about the disadvantage of being given her one talent, describing herself as being a single minded creative wanting to be a writer. She was envious that I had so many talents. She always thought my life was easier because I had so many skills. 
 
I have come to the conclusion – neither is easy -  one or five.
 
But in essence life is so much more than just  finding an outlet for our giftings. I was yet to encounter the biggest challenge of all.
 

Two bowls of seeds, top for the birds, but notice the bunny butt on the second level -- so fun!
 
"Why did the bicycle collapse?
                Because it was tired."

Let this story about the birds, bees and bunnies... begin....

​With my wife's permission I am publishing this.... 

*******
Notice that in the last blog I wrote.... "then Wilma realized again that she was pregnant, another birth control failure."

This time it was a baby boy.  Syras Wade Derksen arrived and joined our family on December 14, 1981.

I want to address the "birth control" problem that I am also referring to and that also plagued our lives. 
 
It's all about sex.
 
Back on the farm sex was a natural part of life, always on display. I saw when the nearby farmers brought their cows to be inseminated by my father’s bull. I saw it in the barn, cows birthing calves. I saw it in the chicken coop collecting eggs. I saw it with the pig sty.  I saw it in the birds and the bees. It was a natural part of life.
 
Not only that, as a farm, we depended on the reproduction of life. We made our living on milk and eggs and beef,
 
My own body reminded me of my own sexuality.  I remember the great embarrassments of puberty and my growing interest in the opposite sex.

My only real experiment was with one of my classmates when I kissed her on the bus and declared – at least to myself – that she was my first girlfriend.
 
There was the heightened sexuality of Bethany Bible Institute, where by their strict rules it was a breeding ground for mating. Their attempts to discourage relationships only brought attention to the natural force of nature to mate and reproduce. Not sure how any of us survived the intensity of our repressed desires.
 
Then there was our BBI romance, the memories still fill me with joy and it didn’t stop there.
 
If were to analyze our personalities using the most ancient and simplest  categories of body, heart, mind and spirit, I would say that I am in tune with my body and my mind and my imagination, Wilma is more in tune with her imagination and with her heart. She has very little sense of body, where-as I would be less sensitive to heart. 
 
So, when it came to the physical part of our marriage, I naturally took the lead, she was a natural follower, desperately wanting to please me. Throughout our marriage – on the whole - I would say we really had an exceptionally  good intimate relationship which I found very satisfying. I’ve been so blessed.

I would also give credence to the good premarital counselling and foundational principles we agreed upon early in our marriage. Countless times we remembered them and made adjustments and corrections in our marriage - always learning and growing into a private life that gave us both joy and life. 
 
However the reproductive side of sexuality was never a high priority.  
 
Our faith in God was first, our creativity and relationship second, our physical survival and passion third… we never really went beyond that. Wanting to have a family was considered a distant dream. 
 
Actually, Wilma who lives in the spirit and in her imagination, found the idea of children very daunting. She never did feel comfortable in the kitchen or with domestic chores, but she tried. And she knew this about herself and wanted to postpone motherhood until she was better prepared. So we were on birth control right from the beginning. Wilma took the pill.
 
However when research emerged that suggested that birth control pills might tamper with the reproductive organs, we decided to go off of the pills for a bit and try the rhythm control. Wilma thought she was on top of it but apparently not because Candace appeared.
 
Right from the beginning Wilma was traumatized by the changes in her body, the delivery, and once the baby arrived, to take care of the physical needs of a baby didn’t come naturally. She was always on some level of postpartum depression.
 
After Candace's arrival, we decided to go on another birth control method which was Contraceptive Foam.  Well, that didn’t work very well either. Out of that came another beautiful child, Odia.
 
The next birth control was condoms. This was safe – and safety is important to enjoyment.  Sure, perhaps not as comfortable, but a guaranteed method  of birth control.
 
Well --  one particular romantic Friday - as we were enjoying each other late at night the condom broke.
 
Wilma was horrified and desperate. Back then we didn’t have Internet or any thing of that kind of so off we went into the middle of the night to find a pharmacist wondering if there was something that would work after the fact. At that time there was no such thing available, so we bought some more Contraceptive Foam hoping that it would somehow travel and take care of the matter!
 
It was funny and usually we could laugh at our foolishness, but not this one. This is not funny, Wilma insisted. As you can imagine soon after she was pregnant again. This one was really tough on her.  Nine months later, Syras was born.

God was doing our "family planning" for us! They just came in their own time! 
 
The baby boy made our family complete and this time Wilma took permanent precautions not to have anymore babies!
 
The next surprise was that even though we remained  a little horrified at the timing of it all, when they did come each one of them completed us in a new way.  

And on top of it all, they were exceptionally beautiful children, all three. They came with in with lots of hair, dimples and smiles that attracted attention from everyone. They were all exceptional in their own way. Candace was petite and walking at seven months. She connected easily with everyone.  Odia artistic and showed exceptional talent almost immediately - just like her father.  She had wisdom beyond her years.  And Syras with his long golden locks turned out to be our intellectual - a bit on the brilliant side! 

There simply was nothing more fulfilling then when we are all cuddled up on our couch in our little living room watching a TV show or having a snack or just laughing together.
 
Probably because our children weren’t planned, we were aware that they had been given to us – each a miracle from above. That they had a destiny a God-given destiny apart from us. We were mainly curious about these little people who God had given to us ---
  
Oh yes – one more thing. We fell in love with each of them – deeply in love.

We would never have suspected in a million years … the destiny of the first.
 ​

 Visitors from the West encouraged my soul, fixed our sump pump on that rainy stormy Saturday, and blessed us greatly. 

​"What do you call a cow in an earthquake?
​... a milk shake!"

The story continues....

******
 
After I resigned from the North Battleford church, I had a better sense of self. I might not enjoy ‘pastoral inter-relational work and all the mess of that” as much as I had hoped – but I did enjoy  young folk, and I did enjoy the performance aspect, the preaching, the movie making and so on.
 
What profession could hold all of my interests? What next?
 
Camping came to mind! Not sure how I had arrived at this – but suddenly all I wanted to do was work at a camp. For the first time I was emerging from a transition with some confidence. I was realizing again the inclinations of my personality – I was a somewhat a multitalented creative.
 
Wilma was also gaining clarity. We had to think of settling down,  Candace was in school; Odia would be in kindergarten. We were in our early 30’s. She wanted to settle down in Winnipeg - She was very clear.  After living in BC all her life, spending our honey moon year in Vancouver, then spending time in Harrison Hot Spring, Banff, Calgary, North Battleford, she wanted and was praying that we would move to Winnipeg. She liked the white snow – the Mennonite culture and the wide-open space. She said it was like living on top of the world. She liked city life and Winnipeg was the perfect size.
 
In researching the camps, I came across the Star Lake Lodge advertisement for a camp director - based out of Winnipeg.
 
I  applied and soon after we were interviewed by the Whiteshell Keswick Fellowship board which operated Star Lake Lodge with the slogan to “enable families to experienced physical and spiritual renewal.”

I wasn’t quite sure about the “family emphasis” but was immediately impressed with the board who offered to get us settled in Winnipeg. The Real Estate agent on the board helped us buy our first house, a little duplex on Herbert Avenue in Winnipeg – the right price- three bedroom, small but perfect for us.

Star Lake Lodge was on the shores of a little lake next to West Hawk in the “Lake of the Woods” area – a lake known for its tranquilly making it the perfect retreat setting for adults.
 
We were immediately taken with one of the founding members, Anne Steinmann, “Saint Anne” as she was known was one of the most gracious ladies I have ever met. Her deep faith was an inspiration to everyone. She was known and respected for her generous hospitality, her listening ear and wise counsel, her keen intellect, and above all her non-judgmental compassion towards others. She had an inner and outer beauty.

The only downside to accepting this position was that it was only ¾ time so I had to offset it with another job. In record time, I was hired by the Manitoba Camping Association to design and publish their newsletter.  

This meant I was learning now to do the promotions for Star Lake Lodge and the Camping Association. In the winter I worked out of the office in our house and in the summer we moved to Star Lake Lodge.  

Living beside that lake was beautiful  – except the whole camp was infiltrated with mice. Rodents would dart across the dining room, the parking lot, and eat the candy in the confectionary.

As a family we stayed in the old lodge which really was a long narrow cabin.  One  night  I declared war on the mice and set up traps all over the cabin. I remember the first trap clamping down on a mouse, the snap – the scratching, tiny thudding of the death throes of the mouse. I think my wife lying in bed sleeping, woke and actually levitated  for a minute or two… she was horrified.

Needless to say none of us slept very well as the snapping traps kept us awake. Apparently live mice running around the cabin aren’t as bad as dying mice!
​
The camp itself was glam camping with table cloths on the dining room tables. The three course meals were served to the tables. The church camp fire had pews alongside it – and everyone dressed for dinner.
 
Besides the beautiful intimate beach, the families  enjoyed the small homey cabins or stayed in their motor homes, RV or camper vans in one of the trailer spots.

The main activity was water skiing and handling the boat  was one of my main roles.

As the founding parents were setting up this amazing retreat for their contemporaries, their sons were also setting up their own skiing sport and attracting the younger crowd.

It was the perfect setting, beautiful dock, sheltered and off to the side with a small island perfect distance from the shore to create privacy for the islanders and a sheltered strait for speed boats to race between the island and the sunbathers on the beach – and not disturbing either side.

So, all day we would offer the guests of all ages a chance to ski. On the side out of view, we would teach them to get up on their skis, (this was no small feat) ... then we would take them around the island and race past the sunbathers who would always notice and applaud the skier who was now quite secure on their skis and waving and then we take a quick loop on the other side and bring them back to the dock again out of sight. As you can imagine this was exhausting for all of us.

By the end of the day we would need a break. from catering to the guests, teaching the impossible to ski – and waving to the sunbathers as part of the performance so at end of day we would set out for a private bay – quiet waters not a ripple – and just enjoy cutting from one side to the other or even trying new tricks. This is where I learned to slalom, - ski on one ski.

The other - spiritual attraction was the Sunday morning worship services, songs sung from hymnals and the occasional firesides.  Firesides were popular.
 
In all of this I was really more handy man director than anything else  - I was in charge of maintenance and the mice. They had their old stand-by preacher-type that preached.  
​
Since I had little creative outlet, I thought I might make the fireside even a bit more exciting by planning a sleight of hand trick in lighting it.
 
As you might have noticed by now, I do love the art of illusion which is so much part of any art – even the basics of drawing a three-dimensional figure on a one-dimensional piece of paper is all about learning how to trick the eye of the beholder.
 
To have a magical fire side, I needed to rig it before hand. Deep within the recesses of the large pile of wood and logs ready for the bon fire, I had hidden a candle, the wax holding it on a board, the board had a thread attached, leading out of to where I would be sitting. I tied a broken twig to the end so I could find it in the darkness. The candle was lit standing by itself on the board, the wood spaced around it so it would not light the wood. But when I pulled the board with the candle on it, it moved under fine kindling, lighting it and the wood over it for the evening fire. 
 
So right in the beginning of the fireside as they were gathering, I had everyone sit and concentrate on the wood-pile to become a grand bonfire. I suggested to them that if they used the power of he mind they could start the wood to burn.
 
They co-operated and stared at the wood pile. When they were all concentrating on the wood, I gently pulled the string – that pulled the board moving the flame of the candle under the kindling – that would hopefully set the whole thing ablaze.
 
I was as surprised as the rest of them when suddenly, a a very small wisp of smoke began to curl out of the wood pile! People jumped back in shock! It was exciting, flames appearing in moments to take hold, Fire pit had been lit and the crowd had done it with their own mental powers! ! The best bon fire ever….
 
The only thing I did wrong was I forgot to give it a spiritual application beforehand which left some thinking I was actually trying to practice the art of magic in a deeply Christian setting.

Even if I'd had them singing, "This Little Light of Mine" it would have set a different emphasis!   Everyone wanted to know how I did it – I never did tell. I just left it as a mystery. This turned out to be a bit divisive.

Yet it had been so fulfilling - the highlight of the summer. Was it another talent -- magic - entertainment.  I think the biblical story of "talents" was always important to me. We are to use our talents for God was a given for me. 

But how to serve God with my talents was baffling - especially since my giftings weren't always recognized by the Christian community. There was no problem with my talent for service, bus boy, porter, gas station. There was no problem with my physical agility, life guard, handling the boat, water skiing, hockey, construction. There was no problem with my work ethic, always showed up on time. There was no problem with my sharing of my story or my learnings of the Word of God.

I did have trouble knowing how to apply my artistic talent, my love to entertain, my love of the performing arts, like magic, my acting, my love of stage. This was all interpreted to be "worldly" at least in the Christian culture we were in at the time.

As wonderful as the camp experience was -- was it enough?

During the summer, Wilma realized again that she was pregnant  - another birth control failure. 

We were now going to have three children, our financial obligations were growing. 
 
Around this time Dave Loewen, who had noticed my promo material for Star Lake Lodge and the Manitoba Camping Association called regarding the possibility of working at Camp Arnes as a graphic artist and perhaps directing the "Pony Unit" program during the summer! 
 
Before we left, Star Lake Lodge had me complete about 25 pen and ink drawings of wildlife for use in their promotion when I was gone! 

Lying on my medical bed, I have a side view and a front view. This is my front view.... bunnies scaring the birds away.... All are welcome!

​
Smiley: 
Our friend sat down on a bench beside an elderly local  man.  Our friend asked, “Have you lived here all your life?”  Response, “Not yet!”

Twist in the plot... 

*******
Our young adult North Battleford group was not only growing in size, it was growing in maturity to the point where they were taking on leadership positions in the church.
 
In the beginning we had questioned our Rock Hudson’s actual commitment to the church and to God. He had the ability to be everything to everyone so It was hard to know when he was being truly honest. But over the years he showed his true heart and we saw him grow spiritually in wisdom and leadership.
 
His girlfriend came from Regina, paid us a visit and fit easily into the group, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate moves towards marriage, which suited us fine. It seemed there were irreconcilable “place” issues meaning neither one of them willing or able to give up their positions at the moment. In any case, we were delighted to see the growth in the group.

After a year or two, the treasurers position opened up on our church board and  Rock Hudson was open to it, but understood the need for baptism before taking the position which he said he was now ready for….
 
There is something beautiful about seeing someone take the full plunge –baptism, immersion and present his salvation story to the membership. He was also beginning to speak about it persuasively with the rest of the group. We felt like we were their parents nurturing them along helping them deal with relational issues, emotional and spiritual - there truly is nothing more fulfilling.
 
Then one Friday night after a Bible Study evening at our house, we lingered at the door saying our goodbyes to everyone until only our Rock Hudson was left. He didn’t seem to want to leave. He said that he needed to tell us something – in private. He looked distraught so we invited back into the living room…and sat down on our couches, with more tea.
 
He then hemmed and hawed, started talking and then lost his words.
 
Finally, he took deep breath, “Before I get baptized, I need to come clean. I need to tell you that I am gay.”
 
I was stunned. I had no words. I was so inexperienced in this. My only reference point was when I was a porter on the trains, I had been propositioned by someone of the same sex, which I didn't handle very well. 
 
Wilma began softly asking for his story.  Apparently, he had always known – even as a child that he was different. No, he did not want to act out his same sex attraction. No, he– had never propositioned anyone in group.

No, he had no romantic interest. Regina? It was all in her head.  He had never pursued her …. (I could relate to this.)
 
Did he think it would change the relationships in the group? Not sure, but he did worry about what everyone would think. The guys had camped together. Would they now feel self conscious around him? The girls who all had secret designs on him…would they feel betrayed?
 
Our main question: did he want to continue to live in the closet and be supported in that way or did he want to come out and have everyone know? He was tired of secrets.
 
His next concern. Would it make a difference to us, to know that he was gay?

Again,  Wilma took the lead on this. No, she said. He was a child of God so as far as she was concerned since he was not acting out immorally his sexual orientation didn’t matter to us.
 
I agreed. I told him that I had no experience with this and we would let the chair of the board know and proceed with the baptism, it should make no difference.
 
I wish I could say it didn’t make a difference - but it did – some of the closeness was lost. The board chairman was not impressed with any of this, but we pushed the baptism through anyway. 
 
We had about 6 baptismal candidates.

Since our church was so small, we had no baptismal so I looked for a church in town that did. We found one, and I have to admit, I never checked it out. I thought a baptismal, especially one that was advertised would be up to code, functional and safe. When we arrived at the church I was horrified to find that we would be the first to use it! The baptismal was nothing but a wooden box with steps at one end, going up and down on the inside into the water. It might have been four feet high, if that. 
 
To make matters worse, the box holding the water was covered with canvas – and to make it water proof the canvas was covered with a sheet of clear plastic. When I and my assistant stepped into the box wearing socks on our feet. we could barely stand up ourselves, it was so slippery our feet slide in every direction, even if we were standing still! 

Thank goodness I had a partner, because our Mr. Rock Hudson was six feet six inches tall! I could see trouble ahead! I began to wonder if the box was actually long enough for him! Too late, he was the first candidate already coming up the steps.

When our Rock Hudson stepped in we grabbed him as his feet were splaying out and his eye's were bulging in fear!  I whispered a warning and to just let us bring him upright on our own!

We went through the liturgical script, then bracing ourselves, two short guys and one tall guy, we tipped him over backwards for an immersion baptism, full length into the water!

To our shock and surprise the water in the tank rose dramatically and flung itself out over the top of the box drenching the first  and second row of spectators with a huge wave of baptismal water! There were screams and shouts and sudden chair push backs by these poor worshipers who were trying to protect their Sunday best outfits from a very wet wave of out of control baptismal water!

There was a pause in the program as mops and pails came out to rectify the situation. The rest were baptized without incident! 

Somehow we made it through without bursting into laughter or collapsing in total embarrassment. But once behind the curtain we embraced each other with relief and love. That's when, we noticed that Rock Hudson's knees were white. He had chosen to wear cream colored corduroy trousers for his baptism that had turned dark brown when wet – but his knees were white. Apparently, we hadn’t baptized his knees in the shallow baptismal.
 
We offered to go out and do it again to make sure! But everyone agreed the head and the heart were more important then the knees.
He was just smiling. He of all people had no pride, no illusions of holiness. He knew that he was on his knees before his God.
  
We stayed in touch with our Rock Hudson over the years. He was on his death bed when he contacted us for the last time. His life had not been easy. Neither had ours, and we shared our stories.

At the end he told us that North Battleford had been the most precious time of his life. It had remained with him -- guided him.

As it had for us.  If that mountain top calling into the ministry was for this man alone -- it was worth it. 

Homosexuality wasn’t the only issue that came up. In our congregation we ran into all kinds of other issues. Working with people can get messy we realized. In our short five-year term, we had serious discussions on sexual assault, abortion,  financial stress and divorce. etc..

North Battleford confirmed  for me that I loved the preaching role of my job description; I could have gone on forever. But  the issues that required the wisdom of Solomon were not my strong suit…

When the question of ordination came up – it was agreed that perhaps church pastoral work wasn’t my calling after all.

​But I knew where I needed to go!

Anticipating conversations this weekend.... Exchange of stories. Mine for yours! Yours for mine!

The Smiley

Son holding an acorn, “What’s this?”
Father: A tree!
Son: Really?
Father: In a nutshell – yeah
 
My story continues..

​*******
 
While living in Calgary we attended a young marrieds’ retreat sponsored by the Highland MB Church held at some camp/conference centre tucked away up in the mountains.
 
We found a babysitter for our two little ones so it was a real treat to get away and socialize with this new group, listen to inspiring speakers, attend workshops, and enter into vigorous discussion groups.
 
This was also a gathering of conference leadership who were having their organizational planning meetings and who would join us for meals and night snacks.
 
It was Saturday night snack when Wilma and I found ourselves across the table from one of these conference leaders who we recognized and admired.  We thought we’d exchange pleasantries’, but this gentleman was strangely interested in us.
 
He asked us in detail about everything our meeting at Bethany, our move  to Vancouver, MBBC, Pauingassi to Calgary.
 
It felt as if we were laying our lives out on a table in vivid detail. It was one of those conversations that took all of us to new levels of understanding. Even I was gaining insight into our story as we described it to him.
 
He just kept asking questions and looking at us intensely as if we were a new discovery of his worth studying.  He really “saw” us – held space for us! Connected in a new way.
 
It was actually even more than that – it was as if we were in the presence of something bigger than ourselves, as it we had stepped onto holy ground.
 
Then when we were finished, he cocked his head slightly and asked, “Why aren’t you pastoring a church?”
 
He was looking at me – through me.
 
I stuttered and stammered…. “We have no place… no calling.”
 
He continued to ask questions until he put his hands on the table. “I know what! There’s a church in Saskatchewan, North Battleford, which is looking for a pastor and I think you fit the bill perfectly. I’ll get your Uncle Otto to recommend you – and I bet you’ll hear from them.”
 
I had shivers going up and down my spine. I was transfixed. It was as if a prophet – and angel – had come down to give us instructions.
 
After when Wilma and I compared our impressions and reactions to the conversation – she too had felt the same presence –  the shivers of sacredness.

Both of us were changed....
 
Not too long after, we heard from the Saskatchewan conference, requesting my resume, then soon after that we put a hitch on our little blue Datsun rented a U-Haul trailer and moved to North Battleford.  
 
Most people think of Saskatchewan as nothing but flat, but they only need to take a trip to North Battleford to realize this just isn't true. The two cities north Battleford and Battleford are separated by the rolling river hills of the winding Saskatchewan River. It’s picturesque, a unique place rich with history and character.  
 
I was finally landing the job of my dreams. The North Battleford Mennonite Brethren Church, was a member of the Canadian Conference of the Mennonite Brethren Churches, Rosthern District. We found ourselves right in the middle of our “people.”
 
The actual church building was quite small, very traditional, with a membership of about 60 members. We had an excellent board chairman who also taught the Adult Sunday school class, and membership of teachers, businessmen, couples, single women and children, the old and young. We even had two younger couples with charismatic leanings that added excitement and spirit to the congregation.
 
We lived in a spacious suburbia parsonage with a very plush moss green rug in the living room, a bedroom for each of our children, two bathrooms and lovely yard.  Best of all it had a basement office – tucked away in the corner and very private where I could lose myself in study the Word of God.
 
Shortly after we arrived, a tall very handsome young man visited our church. The only way to describe him was that he was a young elegant Rock Hudson with charisma galore. Apparently, he was new to the city as well, transferred in as an accountant from the west coast. We invited him for Sunday lunch with a few other young people from our church.
 
The group wanted to continue to meet, so we followed their interests and had a Bible Study every Friday with heated discussions that lasted till 1 or 2 in the morning. We planned retreats, activities, city wide social events, an even produced a movie called “Coals of Fire.”
 
There was no doubt this young man, we will call Rock Hudson, was the center of our Young Adults Group that began to attract the young people from the other churches in the city. Many of the girls were falling in love with our star leader, but he didn’t return their interest. He had a girlfriend in Regina but that didn’t discourage the girls. He had this amazing ability to light up the entire room and make everyone feel special, noticed and included. The group seemed to have a life of its own.
 
My main focus was preaching. I took all week to prepare, reading and studying God’s word and then delivered the message to a full church on Sunday mornings. I had my audience in the palm of my hands.
 
I was also involved in the larger community of North Battleford. I would be called upon to pray at the local hockey rinks before a game or be called by the hospital to visit anyone wanting to see a chaplain.
 
I even had conference standing and relished the provincial ministerial which would bring together about ten if not more, pastors. I remember one meeting when we were asked to pray –as each pastor got up to pray, it became a battle of the prayers I have never heard such eloquence – the prayers were almost mini sermons of the highest praise. I could feel Wilma tense up when it came to my turn. She knew what was at stake, so did I. I got up and prayed the best prayer ever! I think I might even have won.
 
Unfortunately, I think all of those prayers bounced off the ceiling. Still it was a good exercise - even if it was pharisaical. 
 
In my mind, there was no doubt that North Battleford church and myself was a match made in heaven, the perfect church building, the perfect congregation with the perfect leaders, perfect prayers and the perfect sermons,
 
That feeling lasted three years…and then something changed. 
 

 
I can't believe how much joy I derive from the gentle birds, the gentle rabbit and the twitching squirrel.

​The stories continue....

​
*******
 
After fleeing Pauingassi in disgrace there was no time to even plan the next steps. We stepped off the plane in Pine Falls with no where to go. We literally had no home - so we escaped to the safest place we knew which was back to the Fraser Valley to stay the summer with Wilma’s parents.
 
There is always seasonal work in the valley so we joined Pat, Wilma’s younger sister working the valley fields and nurseries hoeing, weeding and picking fruit. It was exactly what we all needed. Pat was going through her own crisis, so as far as I know the two of them had a very precious spiritual bonding experience that summer.

I, on the other hand, worked alone and loved every minute of it. You see, plants don’t yell at you, curse you or try to put pressure on you to borrow money!  They exuded peace and patience!
 
After settling into our new routine, my wife and I came to the conclusion that pastoral education at MBBC had not worked for us, but neither had the missionary experiment at Paunigassi! Perhaps it was time to explore my gifting again, this time my art talent.
 
Then at the end of summer when we were starting to get restless, Wilma's older sister said that they had friends wondering if we would like to house-sit an apartment right down-town Banff! How can you say no to something like that? 

We again packed up our little blue Datsun and drove to Banff, settling into a beautiful apartment in that beautiful town of Banff nestled at the foot of those beautiful mountains.  It was truly over the top - beautiful. I remember walking up and down those streets feeling we were on an extended vacation.

Coincidentally this was also the home of the prestigious Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity! After a brief discussion with Wilma, who was always encouraging anything artistic, I decided to apply and wrote the entrance exam which apparently I passed with flying colors. The school was so impressed with me. Their reaction and feedback confirmed that I did have a recognizable  and impressive talent in art.  They invited me to become a student for the following year! Pressure!

It was wonderful to hear the accolades which somehow healed my artist soul.

But I hesitated... 

On the surface it seemed like such an obvious decision and would be ridiculous not to take it.  It was a linchpin kind of decision! If there ever was a fork in the road decision this one was. I'm not even sure I could think through all the implications of this life altering decision,  I just knew it would change everything.

It was a clear invitation to get into the art world. It was so obvious -- and yet -- why did I feel no peace?

In the end I decided against it. I would not apply. 

Wilma who always wanted me to explore my artistic gifting, sputtered a bit in shock but still supported me in my choice.

So we loaded up our little blue Datsun again and drove to the next big city, Calgary, and found a place to rent easily (because we weren’t being fussy) and then I found a job as a milk man.  

The place we rented was an old dilapidated, filthy,  two-story house with two washrooms, a guest room and laundry room. We cleaned and painted and transformed it into a home. The finishing touch was when I painted a mural of an autumn scene on the feature wall in our dining room. I also had a room downstairs that I made into a makeshift studio. We were such hippies back then. 

Once settled we started to attend Highland Mennonite Brethren church and immediately joined an adult Sunday School class – eager to make new connections.
 
We knew something was wrong with us when during a Sunday School class, the leader opened up a discussion on poverty. The consensus of the class was that poverty was an international problem to be solved by missionaries of the third world countries.

When Wilma and I suggested that there could be poverty in our own country, referencing our own Pauingassi story, we were shut down quickly.
 
We left the class shaking – visibly distraught. We wanted to abandon church forever -  smash something - we were surprised at the vehemence of our anger. 

Then we paused - where had these strong feelings come from?
 
We hadn’t even admitted it to ourselves the residual impact Pauingassi had on our inner lives. Trauma!

We had seen children sniffing gas: children running through the village unattended, barefoot and hungry. We had seen the adults drinking too much, unable to pay their store bill, and given their living conditions – never would be able to. We had seen the packs of abandoned dogs roaming the village dirt paths and the paw prints of wolves. We had seen evidence of outrageous government mismanagement of funds and infrastructure. We had even experienced hatred and violence against the store and myself. We had seen violence in the community against each other as well. 

And we had been helpless in the face of it. We had gone there with artistic ambitions - yes - but we had also thought that we had the answers for everyone.  Instead we had left defeated. 
 
When we debriefed this with a friend, they asked us if we had ever considered “missionary burn out.” No – we hadn’t – that was for missionaries that went overseas.
 
Yet we had the classic symptoms. We had “compassion fatigue.”  We realized we didn’t have what it took anymore to help the way we would have liked. We found ourselves beginning to be dismissive to the very people we came to serve. We started to blame them for their misfortunes. We had huge feelings of resentment and failure. Classic burnout!
 ​
I found myself once again having to forgive.  I had to forgive the community for acting out their frustrations and taking it out on the store. I had to take the time to uncover my own issues  and forgive myself for failing.  I had to forgive all the trauma pieces.... George.  

It seemed after every chapter in my life - I was learning how to forgive again.... Would I have to forgive myself for not studying art - I didn't know. Why was my life so hard?

I also let go of my ideals, and had to learn that I wasn't here on earth to eliminate poverty and suffering - these we will always have with us.  

We saw the perfect example of this in the missionary to Pauingassi, Jake Funk and his wife. They weren't there to impose change on the community but to love on them and contribute by lessening the suffering where possible.

In the following weeks as we were processing all of this, Wilma realized she was pregnant again -  another "pleasant" birth control misadventure.
 
On August 15, 1975, we welcomed Odia Renee Derksen into our family who embodied a sense of a new beginnings. She even appeared in a movie being filmed in the foothills of Alberta – about Mennonites. She was a star before she could walk. 

Watching Candace, as the older sibling look after Odia, we knew that God had given us the two most perfect children.

By this time it felt as if I was lurching from one mistake to the next, would I fail my children as well?