The Holiest Work

The Holiest Work

The world tells our children to chase more... more success, more applause, more achievement. But God invites us to teach them something deeper. To notice wonder in ordinary moments. To grieve honestly. To savor simple joys. To love well - right where they are. Because when hearts learn gratitude, compassion, and presence, the extraordinary unfolds in God’s time, not ours.

“Let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” (1 John 3:18) 

Sometimes the holiest work is simply helping a child see that an ordinary life, lived with love, is already sacred.

Thank You, Brian Doerksen

Brian Doerksen’s music has accompanied much of my own journey of faith. I first connected with his songs years ago through his leading worship at the Langley Vineyard, and the release of my first favourite album: Changed by Your Glory (2000). Songs such as “Refiner’s Fire” and “Faithful One” gave words to my desire for faith, even when trust and confidence did not come easily. His music cut through the high demands and expectations of religion and spoke instead to the small kernels of hope that were still alive in me.

As the years passed, my faith became more complicated. It was not always clear, confident, or settled. It became a grittier faith—often messy, questioning, angry and unsure. Brian’s later songs seemed to grow alongside that journey. “Hope of the Nations,” “Today (As for Me and My House),” and “Everlasting” spoke to a faith that had been tested but had not disappeared.

A particularly meaningful memory was being part of the live recording for the Today album, singing in the mass choir directed by Vijay Manuel, now the MEI Head of Schools. One phrase became especially important to me during that recording: “Today I choose to hear Your voice and live.” Choosing to live—and to keep pursuing the abundant life Jesus spoke about—was very hard at times. The words were not an easy declaration of confidence. They became a daily choice and lifeline, to keep listening, to keep reaching for hope, and to keep moving toward life even when faith felt fragile.

Looking back, Brian Doerksen’s songs have provided a soundtrack to my faith—from my early longing for certainty, through seasons of doubt and questioning, and into a faith that is less polished but perhaps more honest. It is a faith that can still feel messy and unsure, yet continues to hold on to those kernels of hope and to choose life, one day at a time.

Thank you, Brian, for the legacy of your music and for the example of a faith that has continued to grow, deepen, and remain relevant over the decades. You chose to follow the path that was set before you by the Chief Musician, and that choice has made a profound difference in the lives of tens of thousands of people.

Your songs have given voice to longing, doubt, surrender, hope, and perseverance. They have helped people keep listening for God, keep choosing life, and keep holding on when faith felt fragile. I am deeply grateful that your music became part of my own story.

Enter your Father’s house with confidence. 

Enjoy the reunion with your mom.

The Country of Creativity

 (disclaimer: my ideas, my memories, my thoughts, my words, structure and format by ChatGPT)

I have always lived in the country of Creativity. I have explored its provinces and have lately discovered a new one - working in the online world of school.

Creativity was modelled and celebrated from my earliest memories. I saw it in the way my grandma made shortbread with three pricks of a fork for decoration. I saw it in the way my mom cut a jack-o’-lantern face into a slice of bologna. I heard it in the way my dad would wake up my youngest brother by playing a random chord on the ukulele. From the depths of sleep, my brother, who has perfect pitch, would accurately identify the chord. These moments were not complicated, but they were grand in their impact and in the legacy they left behind.

Over the years, I explored creativity in many ways. I wrote and illustrated a book about a turtle named Bart, who met an unfortunate demise when he was mistaken for a sandwich. I made job charts for the fridge door. I designed maps and added calligraphy. I hand-sewed stuffed animals and made yarn dolls and sock puppets. Once, I even turned potatoes into people for a sermon my dad was giving.

I played the piano, the flute and the ukulele. I joined the grade 8 band, and was part of the high school musicals "The Music Man" and "Finian’s Rainbow." I wanted to be a dancer, but I did not have the confidence in my body to pursue it. I also thought about applying to be part of Toymaker & Son, a faith-based touring drama company. Even the creative paths I did not take were part of the country I was exploring.

Creativity was evident in other ways. Our backyard fence at our Andrews Place house became a guest book and graffiti wall. Anyone who wanted to could paint on it. Over time, it filled with names, pictures, colours, and memories. It became much more than a fence. It became part of the story of our home.

Creativity was also practical, playful, and unexpected. Very early in our friendship with the Boese family, I showed their kids how to stick Jell-O Jigglers to a window. It was out of the box and became one of those small creative moments that stayed with us. Creativity meant finding ways to make ordinary moments meaningful.

Creativity was always part of my teaching. At Dunach Elementary, I worked with an amazing team of people to write, produce, and stage school concerts. From sets to scripts, we brought together music, stories, costumes, ideas, and the gifts of many different people. The finished concerts mattered, but so did the shared work of creating them. Even The Silent Monks Hallelujah Chorus was carefully and intentionally crafted. (https://youtu.be/bbFd86OztdQ?si=VeAzbQDR_BpFptN5)

Later on, I pursued a MEd in Arts Integration. The real 'aha’ moment came when I read Ellen Dissanayake’s "Homo Aestheticus," during my studies. Her idea of creativity as “making special” gave me words for something I had already seen and experienced for years. It helped me understand that creativity was not only about making art. It was also about care, attention, beauty, meaning, play, and welcome. I have never wanted simply to give students information. I want learning to feel welcoming, interesting, understandable, and meaningful.

And so I have recently discovered a new province in the country of creativity - using technology to create K-9 and high school courses. Online resources have facilitated making connections, solving problems, arranging ideas, and noticing possibilities. Choosing a title, finding the right image, changing the layout, and connecting history, mathematics, faith, and art are all part of the creative process.

Perhaps the most significant realization of late is that creativity does not always have to end with a finished product. Sometimes I buy beautiful fabric, paper, bowls, or other things because I enjoy them. I may have plans for them, and sometimes those plans never happen. I used to feel guilty about that. Now I know that enjoying beauty has value too. Something can bring joy, interest, or inspiration for a while, even if I never turn it into anything else.

I still live in the country of Creativity, but I understand its landscape differently now. It includes the things I make, the problems I solve, the beauty I notice, the people I welcome, and the ideas I help others discover. Some provinces are lively and productive; others are quiet places of enjoyment, curiosity, and wonder.

I no longer believe that creativity must always prove itself through a finished product.

Sometimes creativity is simply the act of making something special—and sometimes it is recognizing that something already is.

Obituary

 August 20, 1935 – February 25, 2026

It is with both deep sorrow and heartfelt gratitude for a life well lived that we announce the passing of our beloved Betty-Jean “BJ” Richmond (née Yeats) on February 25, 2026, at her home in Langley, British Columbia, surrounded by the love of her family. She was 90 years old.

BJ was born on August 20, 1935, in Winnipeg, Manitoba, to James and Elizabeth Yeats, the little sister in a lively household with three older brothers: Jack, Alex, and Andrew. At a young age, she made a personal commitment to follow Jesus Christ – a decision that guided the way she lived her life with faith, generosity, and deep care for others.

As a gifted young teacher, BJ moved with her widowed mother to Victoria, British Columbia. There she met and married Edward Richmond, building a life centered on family, faith, and community. Ed was her best friend for over 70 years, and their love and delight in each other was always apparent. Together they raised four children: Laura (Brian), Garth (Karen), Keith (Martha), and Janis (Paraskevas) who all went on to build families of their own. The Richmond family continued to grow over the years, with the addition of Langton and his family, and BJ and Ed affectionately referred to their ever-expanding clan as the “family tent.” It became a very large one. BJ was a proud grandmother to 20 grandchildren and great-grandmother to 9 great-grandchildren, all of whom she loved deeply.

Teaching was more than a career for BJ – it was a calling. Over many years in the classroom, she encouraged, challenged, and cared for countless students. Many stayed in touch long after graduation, a testament to the lasting impact she had on their lives. In recent days, messages have arrived from former students, friends, and colleagues from across the country and around the world – a testament to the lasting influence she had on so many lives.

BJ was also a beloved friend, neighbour, cousin, aunt, and confidant. She had a gift for making people feel welcome and accepted, and her home was often a gathering place for others. Having experienced what she described as God’s “love, acceptance, and forgiveness,” she spent her life extending that same grace to those around her. She was extraordinarily generous with her time, resources, and wise counsel. BJ noticed people, cared deeply about their needs, and willingly stepped in to help in ways that often went unseen. She had a remarkable ability to see joy in each day and in the people around her – a perspective that lifted and encouraged everyone fortunate enough to know her. BJ wanted everyone to know that, “God loves you fiercely.”

Our family is deeply grateful to Donna-Mae (Ed and BJ’s niece), as well as the Fraser Health nurses and care workers who supported BJ with compassion and helped make it possible for her to remain at home.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Lifewater Canada, one of BJ’s favourite charities, which provides clean water to children in need.

BJ leaves behind a large and loving family and many friends who will miss her dearly. Her legacy of faith, generosity, and encouragement lives on in the generations gathered under her “family tent.”

“All my life, He has been faithful,

All my life, He has been so, so good.

With every breath that I am able,

I will sing of the goodness of God.”

Beautiful and Bittersweet

Something beautiful happened today. In the early hours of the morning, my dear mom went home to meet her lifelong Friend. Our family is so grateful for the legacy of this great lady.

The Goodness of God
I love You Lord
Oh Your mercy never fails me
All my days
I’ve been held in Your hands
From the moment that I wake up
Until I lay my head
I will sing of the goodness of God

All my life You have been faithful
All my life You have been so, so good
With every breath that I am able
I will sing of the goodness of God

I love Your voice
You have led me through the fire
In darkest nights
You are close like no other
I’ve known You as a father
I’ve known You as a friend
I have lived in the goodness of God

Raised with Joy

2215 Happy Days

We were raised by happy parents.

Not perfect. Not without stress. Not without long seasons that required perseverance and faithfulness.

But truly, genuinely happy.

Their happiness wasn’t flashy or dramatic. It showed up in steady, ordinary ways — in how they regarded each other, how they made decisions side-by-side, how they solved problems as a team. It showed up in steadfast loyalty. In shared cups of coffee. In inside jokes. In the way they chose one another again and again.

And they laughed — a lot. The kind of laughter that fills a kitchen and makes everything feel lighter.

They made a conscious decision, years ago, to lay down old baggage and walk forward together. They trusted the path set before them. They worked hard. They forgave quickly. They kept short accounts. And somehow, through all the ordinary days strung together, they built a life marked by joy.

Sitting at the desk my dad built, caring for them now in this season, I see it even more clearly.

What a gift that was.

It shaped how I see marriage.
It shaped how I handle conflict.
It shaped the kind of home Brian and I have tried to build.

Their steady commitment — choosing each other for more than 70 years — is not loud or showy. It’s faithful. It’s consistent. It’s generational.

And now I see it in their children.
And in their grandchildren.

That kind of legacy doesn’t just happen.
It’s built, one ordinary, faithful day at a time.

And it is absolutely worth celebrating.

I Love You More Than I Did Back Then

February 23, 2019
As I begin this busy day with a moment of quiet and contemplation, I look over at the middle-aged man drinking coffee in the armchair next to me, I am filled with a deep sense of contentment and gratitude. We have been companions for almost 29 years and I honoured to know he is my husband.

And as my thoughts continue to wander, I realize that we both come from a heritage of people who had long and committed marriages, marriages that survived and flourished in spite of ocean travels to new worlds and raging storms on a prairie homestead filled with 12 children!

And then of course my thoughts turn towards my own parents who have been married for over 60 years. They are my favourite people to double-date with, not just because my dad always pays the bill but because we learn from them every time we are with them. My precious fella lost his own dad far too soon and has been blessed with a dad-friend in my own pa.

Years ago, a certain teenager was dared to ask a certain school teacher out an a date and then this happened:

circa 1958

Their life together had held much joy, times of challenge, occasions of despair and events that have filled them with profound contentment and hope. And when asked how they have navigated this wonderful but crazy thing called marriage, my parents will always say they have been totally dependent on a Third Party. 

And now as their daughter and as witness, I can say that the Third Party created them for each other and brought them together for a greater purpose than they could ever have possibly imagined! (I have borrowed these word from another piece of writing that was shared with me.) 

What an adventure they continue to live! 5 kids, lots of grandchildren and 6 great-grandchildren! Friends who are family and family who are friends, and an enduring walk with the Friend of Friends. They have showed me the reality of a faith that endures and grows - they are the most authentic Christ-followers I know. They are not perfect, they make mistakes and they are getting older. But they are His and they are each other’s. And as a super bonus they are, in some ways, mine too! 

My parents enjoy each other, they go on ‘dates’ to the US and they tease each other. They are best friends, and they love each other so much more than they did when they first began!

December 2018

And so in the way they often pray for others, this is my prayer for you on this very special, a day when yet another member is added to their ever-growing family tent.

May you, having been deeply rooted and securely grounded in love, be fully capable of comprehending the width and length and height and depth of His love, fully experiencing that amazing, endless love; and that you may come to know practically, through personal experience, the love of Christ which far surpasses mere knowledge, that you may be filled throughout your being to all the fullness of God so that you may have the richest experience of God’s presence in your lives, completely filled and flooded with God Himself. (Eph. 3:17-19)

Prayer

We spent the afternoon and evening visiting my parents in Langley. My mom asked me to pray for her, and of course I did. She had very specific prayer requests. It was the hardest prayer I have ever had to pray, but it was also one of the holiest moments of my life.

At the end of the prayer, I broke down and cried. She gently touched the tears on my cheek and called me her darling daughter. She has been my best friend for 62 years, and this is a memory I will cherish forever.

Februay 15, 2022

737 Happy Days

My grandma would have been 119 today. She was and still is a huge influence on me. I wrote about her for my final assignment in my Arts Education post-grad diploma. Here is part of it.

My grandma instilled in me a sense of “making special” every time she used the serrated cookie cutter and the tines of a fork to make the pattern on each piece of shortbread. I watched her carefully roll balls of dough in icing sugar to make pecan snowballs. I remember her pouring tea from the gold teapot into the small hand-painted teacup that I now have sitting in my china cabinet. “Making special” was a way of life for my grandma and she has bequeathed this tradition to my mother and me. “Making special” is intergenerational and cross-cultural.

So how does this all connect to what I have learned about arts education in the last few years? Like food and relationships, the arts transcend status, ethnicity, wealth, geography, colour, race, age, religion...any of the states that we find ourselves to be in. Like food, art bridges all kinds of differences. Like food, the arts give us a way of expressing, celebrating and appreciating. My grandmother synthesized all this in a simple piece of shortbread.

In working through the diverse arts experiences of the last four years, I have come to this simple conclusion - we “make special” because we love. That is what my grandma knew - that is what I want to give away. So come sit at the table, enjoy some shortbread and let’s be friends! 

The Joy of Making Special (2001 - SFU Post Baccalaureate Diploma)

The Joy of Making Special

"When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," 

said Piglet at last,

"what's the first thing you say to yourself?" 

"What's for breakfast?"

said Pooh. 

"What do you say, Piglet?" 

"I say, I wonder what's going to 

happen exciting today?" 

said Piglet. 

Pooh nodded thoughtfully. 

"It's the same thing," he said. 

A. A. Milne

Creating a portfolio that reflects me and my learning has been the most challenging and awful process I’ve been through in awhile.  Self-reflection can be such a trap for me as I think and rethink and change and modify and re-evaluate and then start all over again.  I thought of several visual metaphors that would have worked well but nothing grabbed me as ‘IT’.  I thought of doing something with hands as the theme.  I tried making some pastel silhouettes rubbings of shapes that represented me or parts of my life - a light bulb for ideas, a question mark for questions, an exclamation mark for the ah-hah moments, a heart for my family, a cross for my faith, etc.  I soon scrapped this idea as I considered making a Grandmother’s fan quilt pattern out of paper, showing that my grandma has had a huge influence on my life.  I thought about making some kind of wheel with several layers all held together with a brass fastener.  I toyed with the idea of bringing in my daughter’s lunch bag and talking about its contents.  I asked my friends and family what they thought I should do and I heard words such as colourful, diverse, thinking, unpredictable and fun.  This still did not give me the artifact for my portfolio.  With all the thinking that was going on, something had to result and eventually it happened.  I can not put a finger on the exact time I discovered my metaphor but it only happened about a week and a half ago.  Both Kathy and John had said “you will know when you find it” and they were right.  

So the metaphor that I have chosen to use in my portfolio is food.  Seems pretty basic......we all need food, food is in every culture, food comes in many forms, etc.  So why food?  Food plays such a big part in our lives and many things happen around food.  Food is present at our celebrations, our mournings, our meetings and our waitings.  It can comfort and stress us.  We go out for coffee, we meet for lunch, we have a bedtime snack.  As Samuel Chamberlain says, "The gentle art of gastronomy is a friendly one.  It hurdles the language barrier, makes friends among civilized people, and warms the heart."  Food plays a fundamental role in relationships.  We make birthday cakes, breakfast in bed and potluck dinners.  Sharing food seems to forge and reinforce friendships.  It is very hard to stay angry at someone when you are sharing a fondue.  One of the most wonderful things about life is that we must regularly stop what we are doing and devote our attention to eating. 

So for me, food can be art.  I really enjoy making food special for whomever I’m feeding.  My grandmother had a knack for that.  She made liver and spinach into the most wonderful treat and eating her shortbread was like eating Christmas gold.  Feeding people was one of the ways my grandmother showed her love.  Relationships were very important to my grandma and they are important to me and like relationships, food is trans-generational and cross-cultural.  Like relationships, food bridges differences in age, language, religion and nationality...Chinese food, Mexican food, Thai food, Indian food and of course Scottish shortbread made from grandma’s recipe. 

My grandma instilled in me a sense of “making special” every time she used the serrated cookie cutter and the tines of a fork to make the pattern on each piece of shortbread.  I watched her carefully roll balls of dough in icing sugar to make pecan snowballs.  I remember her pouring tea from the gold teapot into the small  hand-painted teacup that I now have sitting in my china cabinet.  “Making special” was a way of life for my grandma and she has bequeathed this tradition to my mother and me.  “Making special” is intergenerational and cross-cultural.  

So how does this all connect to what I have learned about arts education in the last few years?  Like food and relationships, the arts transcend status, ethnicity, wealth, geography, colour, race, age, religion...any of the states that we find ourselves to be in.  Like food, art bridges all kind of differences.  Like food, the arts give us a way of expressing, celebrating and appreciating.  My grandmother synthesized all this in a simple piece of shortbread.  

In working through the diverse arts experiences of the last four years, I have come  to this simple conclusion - we “make special” because we love.  That is what my grandma knew - that is what I want to give away.  So come sit at the table, enjoy some shortbread and let’s be friends!

Jack (original post - January 16, 2020)

 Today one of my favourite people in the world is crying. Her fuzzy best friend of thirteen years has left this world and gone to where good dogs go. There are a lot of Menagh dogs there but one in particular will be very happy to see his buddy, Jack.

Just before we moved to Hope, we had to let Steve go - he became ill very suddenly but nothing prepared us for how determined he was to stay with us. We were at the vet’s office, sitting on the floor with Steve Moose Menagh as end-of-life medication was administered. The vet was amazed at how long he stayed with us....and eventually, became too tired to resist and headed away.

I don't know what happens after life with dogs but I can’t believe they cease to exist. Of all the animals in creation, dogs are the ones that love you completely. They are always happy to see you and their joy is seen from the tip of the wagging tail to end of the wiggly wet nose.

Jack was part of the Roberts/Hootz family. He was a pretty senior dog by many standards. At thirteen, he had grown up with Trish and Derren. He had a double bark - as if one woof was not enough to say what he had to say, and we alway got a chuckle of saying, “Hi Jack” across the fence as if it the it was one word.

Jack had been known to eat underwear and socks. He didn't like to walk on the kitchen floor. One of his favourite toys was the large yellow Tonka truck he used to push around the back yard. His nose change from pink to black depending on the season.

Watching Jack’s friend, Trish, suffer now because he is no longer with her brings tears to my eyes. And yet what she is experiencing now, I am as well. When you love deeply, you hurt deeply. And so Trish, you are close to my heart this evening and you will be in the days and weeks to come. The pain is unbearable but the last thirteen years make it worth the struggle. Jack’s paw print will be on your heart for the rest of your life.

Brian and I love you very much, Trish Roberts.

“It’s just the most amazing thing to love a dog, isn’t it? It makes our relationships with people seem as boring as a bowl of oatmeal.” – John Grogan