A life transformed

October 17, 2025October 13, 2025 / edebock / 8 Comments

Back in August when I wrote this post about several 50 year milestones in my life in 2025, I mentioned that In October it would be 50 years since I made the life-changing decision to follow Christ. A couple of readers mentioned that they would be interested in hearing more about how I reached that decision. I had already been thinking about sharing that story on the blog, so I decided I would do it today, the 50th anniversary of the day that my life was transformed.

As far back as I can remember, my family went to church every Sunday morning. I attended Sunday School and youth group and for several years, church camp was the highlight of my summers. In my early teens, I attended confirmation classes to learn more about the church and the Christian faith. The purpose of these classes was to prepare us for church membership, but when the classes ended and the minister asked me if I was ready to join the church, I said no. I felt that something was missing, but I didn’t know what it was. I knew that Jesus loved me and that He had died for me, but I felt that there must be more to it than that. When I discovered that all the other students in the class were going to join, however, I didn’t want to be the only one who was left out, so I changed my mind. After all, I was a good kid, a quiet kid who didn’t like to stand out from the crowd.

The summer before my final year of high school, my father took a job in the Northwest Territories and we moved from Vancouver to Yellowknife; from the third largest city in Canada to a small, isolated community in the middle of nowhere. I had to leave my home, my friends, my school, my church, and everything else that mattered to a teenage girl. I wouldn’t get to graduate with my class. I was angry and I made a very conscious decision to rebel. I decided that I was going to find out how the other half lived. I quit going to church and started drinking and partying. I abandoned the morals that I had been taught and less than two years after leaving Vancouver, I entered into a teenage marriage that never should have happened.

We had only been married for a year and a half when my husband, a very charismatic narcissist, told me that he had fallen in love with someone else. He didn’t want our marriage to end though. Instead, he wanted to invite her to move in with us! I absolutely refused to allow that to happen and tried for another year to make our relationship work, but midway through my third year of university, it was over and we went our separate ways. I was broken. My dreams were shattered and I felt like unwanted, unloved garbage. That led to more unhealthy relationships.

In spite of all that was going on in my personal life, I managed to graduate from university with my teaching degree and I accepted a job in the very small town where we still live today. I realized that as a teacher in such a small community, my life would be on display for everyone to see. It was the mid 1970s and I was sure that if I continued to live the way I had been, parents wouldn’t want me teaching their kids.

Once again, I made a conscious decision to turn my life around. I thought I could do it on my own, but God had a much better plan. Richard was also a new teacher at the school that year. One evening early in the fall, he shared with me what it meant to be a Christian in a way that I had never heard before. He told me that if I acknowledged my sins, asked for God’s forgiveness, and surrendered my life to Christ, I could have a personal relationship with Him and my life would be transformed. I quickly realized that this was the missing piece that I hadn’t heard about growing up. I didn’t know that I had to make an actual decision to follow Christ or that I could have a personal relationship with Him.

At the same time, I also realized that making that decision would mean giving up control of my own life. Considering what a mess I’d been making of it up to that point, you would think that this would be an easy or obvious decision, but I wrestled with it. Eventually though, I couldn’t deny that God was calling me and I finally surrendered my stubborn will to His. When that happened my life changed completely. There were no flashes of lightning or tongues of fire, just an incredible peace that I had not known before. I felt like a brand new person, free of any guilt or shame over my past. I no longer had any desire to live the way I had been.

I quickly learned that God didn’t want to be a distant deity who cared about me, but who wasn’t personally involved in my life. Like a Japanese kintsugi artist, He began to fill the broken places in my life with gold and turn me into a vessel that He could use for His good purposes.

I wish that I could tell you that life was always easy after that, but of course, it wasn’t. In John 16:33, Jesus tells us, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Over the past 50 years, I have suffered great loss and betrayal. I have spent the last 12 of those years fighting cancer, but I have never been alone in any of these dark times. One of my favourite Bible verses is Isaiah 41:10 which says, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I can testify to the truth of that!

Whatever you take away from this post, please note that this is not about church or even about religion, it’s about an intimate, personal relationship with the Creator of the universe; a relationship that is available to everyone regardless of who you are and what you’ve done. If you have any questions or would like to chat about this, please feel free to comment below or send me an email at debock2@gmail.com.

Image: ChatGPT

Revisiting Powell River: a nostalgic journey

October 24, 2024October 26, 2024 / edebock / 6 Comments

The past couple of days in Powell River, the BC coastal town where I was born and spent the first ten years of my life, have been a wonderful time of revisiting and reminiscing. One of my favourite things as a child was riding the ferries and after all these years, that hasn’t changed.

That’s the one that took us from Earl’s Cove to Saltery Bay on the last leg of our trip and there’s our white SUV sandwiched between two big trucks as we make the 50 minute crossing.

When we arrived in town, we immediately drove up the hill to check on the one remaining piece of family history in town, the giant California redwood that my grandmother planted from seed in the early 1940s. It stands in the corner of the yard that was hers and continues to thrive in its unusual location. Back in 2019, I contacted the Powell River weekly newspaper and they published this excellent article about it.

There’s our vehicle again to give you an idea of how big the tree actually is!

The little house that my grandfather built in the 1930s is still standing, but I’m sure my grandmother, an avid gardener, would be as horrified as I was at the condition of the yard. She lived in that house until she passed away in late 1980 and I spent many, many happy hours there.

My childhood home is still standing too, but it’s been completely transformed since we lived in it. When we moved in in 1955, it was a modest family home with two bedrooms and one bathroom, a completely unfinished upper storey, and a partially dirt basement. Later, as the family expanded, my father added two additional bedrooms and a half bath upstairs. Now for sale, it’s advertised as a “stunning 5 bed 4 bath character home” with a walk out basement and an attached bachelor suite and if you happen to have an extra $1.5 million to spend, it could by yours! While I wouldn’t even recognize it as the same house from the ocean side, this view from the street still looks very familiar.

Living on the waterfront, I could hear the waves from my bedroom at night and the beach was my playground. On this visit, we walked the 2.7 km (out and back) Seawalk that is a new addition since our days in PR.

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I remember my father telling the tale of climbing Valentine Mountain with his two preschool children (my older brother and I) on Father’s Day 1955 and, in his words, when we got home his wife “felt like having a baby”. My sister was born later that day! I also remember that in his younger days, Dad, an avid mountaineer, would climb the mountain with a pack filled with 40 pounds of magazines on his back to stay in shape. With these family stories in mind, I decided that on this trip, hubby and I would climb Valentine Mountain. It’s actually a short, but steep hike up to a rocky bluff with a beautiful view. The final part of the climb is a made up of steep stone steps.

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The panoramic view from the top includes the old pulp and paper mill which was originally Powell River’s sole reason for being as well as a breakwater made of WWII merchant marine vessels.

The mill, now closed, played a very big role in our family history. The grandfather that I never knew because he died in his 30s worked in the mill and my beloved Grandpa, the man my grandmother married when I was 7, was a millwright there for his entire working life. During WWII, when women filled roles left vacant by men who’d gone to war, my mother also worked in the mill and later, my father was employed as an engineer by the company.

While in Powell River, we’ve been staying in a beautiful airbnb with an ocean view. Each evening, we’d watch the sun set and then go out for dinner.

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We were halfway through dinner the first evening when I realized that the restaurant we were eating in was probably originally the movie theatre where I’d seen the 1959 film, The Shaggy Dog, with a group of neighbourhood kids. The waitress confirmed my suspicion. Then this evening, we ate in a bistro that is housed in what was always called the beer parlour when I was a child. I remember that back then it had two separate entrances. The signs over the doors said “Men” and “Women and Escorts”. My grandmother spoke of it as if it was a terrible place. I’m sure the ambiance has changed significantly since then!

Tomorrow, we’ll say goodbye to Powell River and return to Vancouver. There won’t be a fashion post this week, but I do plan to write a couple more about our time here. In the meantime, I hope you’ve enjoyed this rambling bit of reminiscing.

Cropped pants, cuffs, and the psychology of fashion

July 28, 2023July 27, 2023 / edebock / 3 Comments

I’ve always been very particular about the length of my pants. From the time I was a child, I’ve loved wearing capri pants, or pedal pushers as we called them way back then. On the other hand, I’ve never liked wearing cropped pants. They look great on other women, but they feel all wrong on me.

The difference between capris and crops is simply a matter of a few inches. Capris end at the calf and crops fall 2 to 4 inches above the ankle bone. They’re a great way to show off your ankles, cute shoes or booties, or even a fun pair of socks, but I just can’t convince myself to wear them.

Why is that? Why such an aversion to something that is admittedly stylish and cute? I think it has to do with the fact that I have long legs and back in the day when I was young and terribly self-conscious, I often had trouble finding pants that were long enough. The thought of being mocked for wearing pants that were too short horrified me. Pedal pushers were intentionally short. Everyone knew that. I could wear them and fit in, but cropped pants were not a thing back then.

This summer, I’ve discovered something odd. I have 3 pairs of summer pants that are designed to be worn either full length or with the cuffs rolled up which essentially makes them the same length as cropped pants. Those, I love wearing! Again, I have to ask myself why and again, I go back to my early memories of growing up on the waterfront. When we played on the beach and waded in the tidal pools, it was natural to roll up our cuffs to keep them dry. Now, when I wear my cuffs rolled up, that carefree feeling of childhood play is what comes to mind!

Amazingly, how we dressed as a child or the fears that we might have had back then about not fitting in can affect the way we dress and shop for clothing decades later. Can you think of any examples from your own life?

Growing up with gnomes

October 31, 2019 / edebock / 2 Comments

Our two BC grandsons are growing up in a world of magic. There are gnomes living in the forest near their North Vancouver home. When the boys were younger, we’d often explore the forest looking for gnome homes.

The closest we ever came to finding one was this little gnome gate.

Now that the boys are in school and busy with other organized activities and play dates with friends, it’s been quite awhile since we’ve gone into the forest together, but the gnomes are still very much a part of their lives. Many years ago, our son and daughter-in-law installed a tiny gnome door on the outer wall of the family room so that the little men can come and go whenever they want. Though they never show up in the daytime, it’s obvious that they sometimes visit at night. They always decorate around their door for special occasions like Halloween and Christmas and they often leave tiny gifts for the boys.

In a world that is increasingly filled with stress and fear, I’m glad that there is also magic and wonder, imagination and creativity, and I’m thankful for parents who make the effort to nurture it!

Take that, Miss Chen!

January 14, 2017January 13, 2017 / edebock / Leave a comment

My first memory of phys ed was Miss Chen yelling at me for not being able to serve a volleyball over the net. It was grade 6, my first year in a new school, and I don’t think I’d ever held a volleyball before. In fact, I don’t recall having physical education classes at all prior to that year. The small town elementary school that I’d come from was overcrowded. When I was in grade 1, the gym had served as our classroom and after that, I only remember going there for school-wide assemblies.

Miss Chen also taught us health. She was an odd and intimidating person. I remember her standing at the front of the classroom doing callisthenics while she taught. Her explosion on the volleyball court did nothing to persuade this uncoordinated, timid child that physical education was a good thing.

In high school, I was the gawky kid who hated phys ed, all except gymnastics. I remember the year that each student had to plan, practice and perform her own gymnastics routine to music. I chose the 1967 hit, Love is Blue. Though I wasn’t able to manage some of the more difficult gymnastics moves like walkovers and handsprings, I remember that my routine started with an arabesque and incorporated other ballet poses and moves that I’d learned in the dance classes that my mother had insisted I take when I was younger. My teacher loved it. It was my shining moment in phys ed! She even wanted me to enter my routine in the high school talent show that year, but I was too shy.

Over the years as a teacher in a small rural school, I taught almost every subject at one time or another, but never phys ed. How remarkable then that one evening this week, I found myself in my basement teaching a couple of friends the exercises that I begin my days with as well as the weight lifting routine that I follow three times a week! Me, teaching anyone phys ed? Wow! Take that Miss Chen!