What Every Child Needs from Us

I’m often asked about our family. People comment on my sons, my relationship with my “daughters,” and how much they enjoy watching me as “Grandpa.” Many say, “The Pue family seem so close—what’s your secret?”

Before I go any further, let me say this: I truly believe we’re a great family—a clann, as we Irish like to call it. Not a perfect one, of course—we know that well, and we’re not afraid to admit it. But there’s something special about the way we come together, support one another, and carry forward the values that have shaped us. It’s a bond I cherish deeply and one that continues to inspire me every day.

As I look at other families I admire—and as I’ve watched generations grow—I’ve come to see that children don’t become healthy, whole adults by accident. They’re shaped day by day by the environment we create around them. The home is their first classroom in life and love. And though every child is wonderfully different, there are six essentials I believe each one needs to thrive: security, love, intimacy, affection, significance, and affirmation.

I approach this with a deep sense of humility, as it touches on my sons and the principles that have shaped their lives. It’s impossible to reflect on this without acknowledging their mother, Brenda, whose influence was profound. She modelled these principles so beautifully and consistently before her passing, leaving a legacy that continues to inspire us all.

At the time of writing, Jon, Kirstie, and their two children are living with us, giving us the privilege of witnessing these principles in action within their little family. I also see this same legacy reflected in the lives of Jason and Kristin, Jeremy and Shari, and their families. It’s a joy to watch how these values ripple outward, shaping the lives of all my grandchildren in unique and meaningful ways. As a mentor at heart, I feel drawn to reflect on and share some learnings from our family’s journey. I do so with deep respect and gratitude for the love and lessons that have shaped us. So, here are six principles to reflect on.

1. Security – Tells them “You are safe.“

A child’s world can feel uncertain and unpredictable. They need to know that home is a place where love doesn’t walk out the door.

How to nurture it:

Keep your word. If you promise to show up—do it. Reliability builds trust that will echo into adulthood.
Stay calm in conflict. When they make mistakes, respond with steadiness instead of anger. Your reaction teaches them whether love depends on behaviour or is rooted in grace.

2. Love – Let’s them know “You are wanted.“

Love is more than words; it’s attention and presence. Children feel loved not when we tell them, but when they experience it through our focus.

How to nurture it:

Be fully present. Put down the phone, make eye contact, and listen. It says, “You matter more than my distractions.”
Build small rituals. Bedtime chats, morning hugs, shared meals—simple rhythms that remind them daily of your affection.

3. Intimacy – Provides the promise “You can be known.“

True intimacy means being known and accepted as you are. Children need to experience that transparency is safe. When we allow ourselves as parents to be known it teaches that honesty, not perfection, is the pathway to relational connection.

How to nurture it:

Share your story. Let them see your humanity. Tell them about times you were afraid or failed and what you learned.
Listen before you fix. Often, children need empathy, not answers. When you sit with them in their feelings, they learn that emotions are not weaknesses but signals.

4. Affection – Let your son or daughter know, “You are cherished.”

A hug, a hand on the shoulder, a soft word—these small gestures tell a child, “You are loved and enjoyed.” I have mentored adults who have grown up in families without affection, and they are very guarded. However, children who experience affection tend to thrive!

How to nurture it:

Show warmth often. Affection shouldn’t only follow achievement; give it freely and often.
Use gentle tone. The way we speak can either open or close a child’s heart.

5. Significance – Let them know “They matter.”

Every child needs to know they have value and that their life contributes to something larger than themselves. When a son or daughter knows they matter, they develop a sense of purpose that can carry them through life.

How to nurture it:

Give real responsibility. Invite them to help with meaningful tasks, not just token chores. Contribution builds belonging.
Recognize character. Instead of only praising results, affirm traits like kindness, perseverance, and honesty.

6. Affirmation – “They have what it takes.”

Affirmation is the voice that says, “You can do this.” It shapes courage and resilience. With repetition, it builds confidence that will serve them long after they’ve left the home. For more on this, check out the Mentored Podcast Episode 04.

How to nurture it:

Be specific. Swap “Good job” for “I saw how patient you were with your sister.” Real encouragement is rooted in observation.
Catch them doing right. Don’t let correction dominate your communication. Children rise to the level of our belief in them.

Affirmation builds an inner voice of confidence that will serve them long after they’ve left your home.

Final Thought

Parenting is sacred work. We don’t get it perfect—but we can get it right over time. What matters most isn’t perfection; it’s presence, consistency, and grace.

When children grow up surrounded by security, love, intimacy, affection, significance, and affirmation, they carry a deep sense of wholeness into the world. They know who they are and Whose they are.

God, in His perfect fatherhood, models every one of these traits. He is our security when life shakes. His love never wavers. He knows us intimately, delights in us with affection, gives our lives significance, and speaks affirmation over us daily through His Word.

As we reflect His nature in our parenting, we give our children not only a picture of healthy humanity—but a glimpse of divine love.

So take heart, parents. The seeds you plant in love today will bear fruit for generations.

When Leaders Lose Heart: Walking with Others Through Disappointment

I’ve sat across from countless leaders over the years—some at the pinnacle of their careers, radiating confidence and success, and others in those quiet, dimly lit corners of defeat. While we love to celebrate the victories (and rightfully so!), the unspoken reality of leadership is that disappointment isn’t just possible; it’s inevitable.

When a leader sits before me, shoulders slumped under the weight of a vision that didn’t come to pass or a betrayal they never saw coming, my heart breaks a little. I know that weight intimately. I’ve carried it myself. But I also know that this moment, heavy as it is, holds a profound invitation for growth that success simply cannot offer.

In mentoring, our role isn’t just to cheerlead the wins. It’s to sit in the ashes with someone and help them find the embers that are still glowing—and trust me, they’re always there.

The Silent Weight of Leadership Disappointment

Disappointment in leadership is a unique kind of pain. It’s rarely just about a failed project or a missed quarter. For most leaders I know, our work is deeply woven into our sense of calling and identity. When things go sideways, it doesn’t just feel like a professional setback; it feels deeply personal. It can feel like a complete disorientation of the soul.

When I mentor leaders walking through this valley, I understand the temptation to hide it. We feel we need to keep that “brave face” on for our teams, our boards, and even our families. But here’s the thing—hiding disappointment only allows it to fester into bitterness or cynicism.

The Ministry of Validation

One of the most powerful things we can do as mentors is simply to validate the pain. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Yet, leaders are so often told to “shake it off” or “pivot” that they rarely get permission to just say, “This hurts like hell.”

When a leader tells me about a key staff member leaving or a strategy that flopped spectacularly, I don’t rush to fix it. I don’t immediately quote Romans 8:28, even though I believe it with every fibre of my being. First, I say, “That must be incredibly hard. I’m so sorry.”

Validation is the first step toward healing. It acknowledges that the loss is real and raw. It tells the leader that their feelings aren’t a sign of weakness, but a beautifully human response to a broken situation. By validating their pain, we create a safe harbour where they can drop anchor, stop drifting, and just breathe.

Moving from Lament to Learning

However, we can’t stay in the harbour forever. There comes a time when we must help the leader lift their eyes from what was to what could be. This is the delicate pivot from lament to learning—and it requires both wisdom and impeccable timing.

Disappointment has a way of revealing our foundations. It strips away the superfluous and forces us to ask those hard questions:

Was my identity tied too tightly to this outcome?
What can I learn about my own leadership style through this mess?
Is there a character issue God is trying to refine in me?

I often tell the leaders I mentor that God is the great Recycler. He wastes absolutely nothing. The pain you’re feeling today? That’s the raw material for the wisdom you’ll share tomorrow.

This isn’t about toxic positivity or pretending the failure was “good.” It’s about stewardship. How will you steward this disappointment? Will you let it harden you, or will you let it soften you, making you more empathetic and resilient?

Reframing the Narrative

One of the most critical skills we can teach is reframing. When we’re in the thick of it, our perspective shrinks dramatically. We see only the immediate loss. As mentors, we have the privilege—and responsibility—of holding the long view.

I think of those great cathedral builders of centuries past. Many of them laid foundations for structures they knew they would never see completed. They lived for a vision bigger than their own lifespan. Now that’s what I call faith in action.

When I help a leader reframe their disappointment, we look for the long arc of God’s faithfulness. Maybe this “no” is protection from a danger we can’t see. Maybe this closed door is steering us toward a path where we’ll be far more effective for the Kingdom.

Reframing doesn’t change the past, but it drastically changes how we walk into the future. It shifts us from victims of circumstance to active participants in a larger, more beautiful story.

A Call to Honest Resilience

If you’re mentoring someone right now who’s ready to throw in the towel, or if you are that leader feeling the sting of a dream deferred, I want to offer you this hope: You are not finished. Not even close.

Your calling as a leader isn’t to be flawless; it’s to be faithful.

Resilience isn’t about never getting knocked down. It’s about how we get back up—with a limp, perhaps, but also with a new depth of character that only the struggle could produce. The most impactful mentors I know aren’t the ones with perfect track records. They’re the ones who can look you in the eye and say, “I’ve been where you are, and I know the way through.”

Let’s be leaders who don’t just survive disappointment but who allow it to transform us into people of greater depth, compassion, and wisdom. The world desperately needs that kind of leader.

Let’s Go Deeper

This topic is so close to my heart that Chuck, Ingrid, and I dedicated an entire conversation to it. In Episode 43 of the Mentored Podcast, titled “Dealing with Disappointment,” we open up about our own struggles and share practical ways to navigate these choppy waters.

We discuss:

How to manage the complex emotions of setbacks without suppressing them.
Practical steps for reframing your narrative.
How to apply faith when your reality doesn’t match your vision.

I invite you to listen. Whether you need encouragement for your own heart or wisdom to help someone else, I believe this episode will be a balm for your soul.

[Listen to Episode 43 on Apple Podcasts here]

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this vital topic.

Why I Keep Falling in Love with New York City

I’m sitting in Moshava café in Greenwich Village, sipping an iced coffee that somehow tastes like magic, and once again I find myself grinning like a fool. I love this city. There, I said it.

New York City has me—hook, line, and soul.

You see, I’m a city guy through and through. I’ve travelled the world, seen stunning landscapes, climbed high places and dipped toes in distant oceans—but there’s something about the energy of a great city that grabs me. And no city does it quite like New York.

Every time I come, I try to explain it. The people. The architecture. The rhythm. The sheer, unapologetic bigness of it all. And yet, words always fall short. NYC is less a place you describe and more a place you feel. You inhale it.

It starts with the people. New Yorkers are a breed all their own—gritty, warm, direct, and full of character. One moment you’re being told to move along with a classic New York glare, and the next, a stranger’s helping you haul a suitcase up the stairs like you’re lifelong friends. It’s paradoxical and perfect. There’s a unique humanity here, raw and honest. Just like I like it.

Then there’s the architecture. Good grief. You can’t walk ten feet without bumping into something historic, iconic, or simply beautiful. From the brownstones in Harlem to the iron façades in SoHo, from the spires of Midtown to the quiet, cobbled lanes of the Village, it’s like the city is singing—its song built in brick and steel. I never stop looking up. Ever.

The culture? It’s as if the whole world has pulled up a chair to this table. Theatre, music, design, street art, cuisine—it’s all here, all the time. One day you’re sitting in a restaurant that feels like a Massachusetts fish place time forgot. At the corner is Ben’s Pizza where he proudly displays “best in the world” on the rather dirty green awning. Next, you’re at a wine bar with the most expensive sushi you have ever had. Of course the Broadway shows beckon and Times Square is truly electric with people and signage And let’s not even get started on the bagels. You haven’t had a bagel until you’ve had a New York bagel.

Do you think the yogurt might be good here?

I don’t come here to escape life. I come here to feel it pulsing in full force. There’s a sacredness to the chaos. A kind of order in the mess. It reminds me of ministry, to be honest—loud, alive, unpredictable, but beautiful in ways you only notice when you stop long enough to really look.

And here’s what I’m learning, or maybe re-learning: every time I walk these streets, I walk them differently. A little older. Hopefully a little wiser. Still as curious as ever. But what stays the same is that sense that I’m part of something bigger here. New York stretches me. Invites me. Inspires me.

So yes, I’m a city guy. I love the noise, the pace, the stories etched into the sidewalks. But more than that—I love this city because, somehow, every time I’m here, it makes me feel more alive.

And that’s a gift I don’t take lightly.

If you’ve never been to New York—go. If you’ve been before—go again. And if you’re there now—look up. The city’s still singing.

Celebrating Landon’s Graduation: A Journey of Love and Grief

Today was one of those days with a lot of emotion that I didn’t see coming.

Landon graduated from high school and his ceremony was a highlight for me. Watching him walk across that stage, diploma in hand, confidence radiating from his steady steps, was heart-stirring. He has worked so hard to get here and carried a heavier course load than he needed. His determination, faith, and kind heart shone brightly. With awards in his hand and being selected Student of the Year and Valedictorian, pride doesn’t even begin to cover how I felt watching him take this big step forward. It was one of those moments where time seemed to freeze.

Sitting there watching Landon, I thought about how proud Brenda, Landon’s Grammy, would be. Landon’s not just graduating from high school; he’s stepping into all the potential she always saw in him. As I prayed for him Sunday morning, I almost heard her voice, “Keep cheering him on! This is just the beginning.”

Like all significant moments in life, today wasn’t simple. I felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with my joy today. It’s funny how, as parents or grandparents, we tend to see not just who they are in front of us but all they’ve been up until now. I remembered a toddler who used to tweak a door stopper spring and then laugh hysterically, now stepping into a new chapter of his own life. And as proud as I felt, my thoughts circled back to Brenda. Brenda would have been beaming – no question about it. She had this knack for showing pride so big it made others feel like they were in the spotlight too. She wasn’t just a cheerleader; she was the sort of person who made you feel capable of greatness.

His Grammy for sure would’ve been the loudest one at his grad ceremony. I know she would’ve risen out of her seat, hollering “Yay LANDY!” with complete abandon, the way only she could. I could almost hear her laugh and see that proud smile she reserved for moments like this.

Brenda would’ve adored who he’s becoming. She always had a way of spotting potential in others before it even had the chance to bloom, and there’s no doubt she saw that in Landon. I imagine her pulling him aside after the ceremony and saying something wise but laced with humour, just to remind him to stay grounded. And then she’d hug him, hug him tight, but he never minded that.

It’s no stretch to say Brenda played a big role in shaping our family’s legacy of love, persistence, and belief in one another. Her presence, even years after she passed, is still such a grounding force. She had a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary, something I often see reflected in Landon. Watching him cross that stage, I thought about how proud she would’ve been—not just for the tassel turn or his speech but for what it represented. Graduations aren’t just academic milestones; they’re about persistence, growth, and stepping into the unknown with courage.

Going into church today, I tried to share my feelings with Jason and Kristin (Landon’s mom and dad). I thought I could describe the thankfulness and gratitude I’d been pouring out to God for their son, but as I started to speak, the words caught in my throat. The tears came suddenly. It was as though everything hit me at once. The pride, the missing piece, the tender reminder that grief and joy often exist together. You think you’re okay, that you’ve processed everything, and then a moment comes, a memory, and it’s like the Grief Committee decided to hold an unannounced meeting right as I walked into a church full of people.

My wife, Glenda, gently reminded me that this wasn’t just a graduation; it was another “first” on my grief journey. Landon is the first grandchild to graduate since Brenda, passed. Her absence, though not mentioned explicitly, was very much present.

Brenda would have loved all this. Oh, how she would have loved it. She was a woman who celebrated every milestone with gusto, whether it was as small as a child learning to tie their skates or as significant as a graduation moment like this. She had a way of making people feel deeply seen and wildly capable.

I see her in Landon today—not just in his accomplishments but in the way he carried himself. His focus, his kindness, his groundedness. These were all qualities she nurtured in him whenever they were together. She had this ability to look right into people’s hearts and remind them of God’s goodness already living there.

Glenda’s gentle words this morning stayed with me all day. This was a “first” without Grammy, yes, but it was also a moment to carry her legacy forward. And we did—we laughed and celebrated the way she would have, and, yes, cried just like she might’ve if she’d been with us.

The truth is, grief wears so many faces. Some days, it feels like a weight you can’t lift. Other days, it’s a quiet shadow, lingering at the edges of even your happiest moments. And some days, like today, it melts into the moments you hold dear, reminding you that the best way to honour the love you’ve lost is to allow it to continue shaping your life. At the graduation party, I was overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions I hadn’t entirely prepared for. There was the evident pride in Landon. There was gratitude for Glenda, who saw connections and truths I missed. And there were bittersweet and unrelenting tears that spoke to how deeply Brenda’s life continues to resonate with our family.

If there was a single takeaway from today, it’s the reminder that life’s significant “firsts” will always nudge us to reflect. They show us how far we’ve come, who we’ve loved, and how much we carry them forward. And sometimes, like on the way into church, those reflections come with raw emotion we can’t hold back.

For Landon, this event was monumental. For us, his family, it was, too, because it gave us a chance to remember, celebrate, and love in the ways Brenda would have championed. Landon’s future is bright—Glenda and I can see it just as clearly as Brenda would have. And as we cheer him on to the next step in his life, I can’t help but hope that we all find moments to celebrate the people we love. Whether you’re marking a milestone, supporting someone through their “first,” or just choosing to reach out, remember that these efforts shape the legacies we leave.

And for those of you who, like me, still find yourself caught off guard by the layers of grief, I’ll offer this piece of what I learned today. Give yourself grace when joy and sadness mingle. Feel it all, knowing that love doesn’t just disappear when someone is gone; it transforms and continues, carried forward in moments like these. Today was one of those moments—for Landon, for Brenda, and for all of us.

Remembering My Father, 25 Years Later

It’s been 25 years since my father passed, yet there are days when his laugh, warm and full of life, feels as if it’s just out of earshot. Dad was the sort of person who loved family, gardening and—perhaps most distinctly—orchids. Oh, and flying. And singing. And God. Actually, the list gets pretty long, now that I think about it. But that’s the kind of man he was—a life bursting at the seams with interests and passions, all wrapped in this Irish personality that you couldn’t help but admire—and occasionally eye-roll at.

Yes, my dad had what I often call a “Belfast look.” Big and sturdy, with massive fists and a serious air that could be downright intimidating until he opened his mouth. That’s when the funniest, most unexpected line would sail out and completely disarm you. He had a gift for wit and a knack for humour, as though it was his spiritual mission to keep those around him slightly off-balance but always entertained.

The Greenhouse Respite

Growing orchids in a freezing Manitoba winter requires a unique combination of patience and stubbornness, both of which my father had in spades. I can still picture him in his greenhouse, tending to his flower “babies” with meticulous care. It was his restorative haven. He’d often tell me, “You can rush a lot of things in life, but orchids aren’t one of them.” I didn’t tell him at the time, but I loved going into that greenhouse when he wasn’t around—the warmth, the smell of damp earth, the delicate beauty of those flowers—it all felt alive in a way I didn’t quite understand as a kid.

But of course, Dad’s nurturing hand in the greenhouse didn’t extend to all plants. One memory involves a wayward row of tomato plants that refused to cooperate and grow. “For heaven’s sake,” he bellowed one day, “if you don’t start showing growth, you’re going straight to the compost heap!” He was not entirely joking.

The Transformation

Dad was always religious, and his dedication to church, choir, and faith permeated our upbringing. But something remarkable happened when I was seventeen—a shift that turned his faith into something deeper, more profound. God became real to him in a way it hadn’t before, and it changed him.

Suddenly, the faith that had always seemed structured and dutiful transformed into something vibrant and alive. He became gentler, more reflective, and unshakeably at peace. It wasn’t that his humour or wit disappeared—thankfully, those stayed intact—but there was a different weight to his words, a new sense of purpose behind his actions. I would wake up early in the morning and find him sitting in his wing chair reading his Bible and making notes. There was something so peaceful about that.

Being the youngest, I witnessed this transformation up close. My two older brothers and I have since talked about how we each grew up in almost different homes, shaped by his and Mom’s evolving lives. By the time I was the only one left at home, I had the privilege of seeing this renewed version of him every day. It was as though his faith had moved from something he practiced to something he lived, and that left a lasting impression on me.

Voices in Harmony

Music wasn’t just a hobby for my dad; it was a language. Between church choir rehearsals and his time in a Barbershop Quartet, a good chunk of his week involved singing. If you’ve never heard a Barbershop Quartet practice, imagine four very determined men standing uncomfortably close, debating harmonies and occasionally striking a note so beautiful it would stop you in your step. My dad absolutely loved it.

Some of my earliest memories involve standing next to him at church, trying to keep up as he effortlessly filled the sanctuary with a deep bass, resonant voice that seemed to come straight from his soul. He joked that God gave the Irish their voices so we’d be forgiven for everything else.

The Aviator

And then, there was the flying. Dad’s eyes sparkled most when he talked about his years as a flying instructor during World War II. He didn’t share many war stories, but when he did, they were less about the danger and more about the boys who came through his cockpit. He taught them how to handle planes with precision and respect—two things I imagine could describe how he handled life itself.

Even after the war, his love for the sky never faded. It’s one of the few places where I think he felt completely free. He let me take the controls when I was just ten and we would practice landing atop the clouds. Still today, when I hear the distant drone of a Cessna overhead, I can’t help but think of him.

Lessons That Last

Dad wasn’t perfect—none of us are. But he carried a strong sense of faith and a belief in bettering the world around him, even if it meant starting with a single stubborn orchid in the middle of winter. He opened our home to others and helped people get back on their feet. He taught me that laughter could diffuse tension, that dedication is a form of love, and that singing—regardless of how you sound—connects you to something eternal. More than that, though, witnessing his transformation taught me that it’s never too late for faith to deepen and for life to become richer.

Twenty-five years is a long time, but the memories of who he was and what he loved remain vivid. Flowers, the songs, the skies—they all tell his story. If there’s a choir in heaven or a greenhouse that needs tending, I have no doubt he’s making himself indispensable up there, and making everyone smile along the way.

It’s been a long time since we have shared a Guinness together, but here’s to you, Dad. Your DNA runs strong in my family and you would be so proud of your clann and your great grandkids would have you wrapped around their fingers. You’re greatly missed but remembered with a smile—and occasionally an eye-roll.

It’s Time For Men to Break Out Of Their Shell and Make Room for Friendship

There’s a common stereotype that men don’t need friends, that they don’t have time for friendship, or that it isn’t an important part of their lives. This is a damaging narrative that needs to be corrected. The truth is that friendships are just as important for men as they are for women, and the benefits of having strong friendships far outweigh any excuses not to make time for them.

The Benefits of Friendship

Having strong friendships can provide numerous benefits such as increased mental health, improved self-esteem, greater emotional support, and even better physical health. People with strong friendships tend to live longer than those without, and those who actively maintain their social networks tend to enjoy more fulfilling lives overall. Furthermore, having strong relationships can help men become better leaders in their professional lives. Studies have shown that people who cultivate meaningful relationships with others are more likely to be successful in business and leadership roles.

Respecting the Depth of Friendship

When it comes to building real connections with other people, there needs to be a certain level of respect and trust in order for the relationship to flourish. Respect is essential because it encourages both parties involved to open up about themselves and share personal experiences without fear of judgement or ridicule. This kind of depth helps create an environment where individuals feel comfortable enough to talk openly about their challenges and successes with each other. It also allows them to build meaningful relationships over time by growing together through shared experiences—both good and bad—and learning from each other along the way.

Activities That Bring Friends Together

Making room for friendship doesn’t necessarily mean spending hours pouring your heart out on a park bench every day; it could simply mean carving out some quality time with friends on a regular basis for activities like playing video games or sports together; going out for drinks or dinner; watching movies; exploring new places; attending events or conferences; taking classes together; trying out new recipes at home; or just catching up over coffee or tea on weekends. These activities allow people to build lasting friendships while having fun at the same time!

Earlier, an interview aired on the television show 100 Huntley Street about the friendship I share with Bob Kuhn and David Bentall. In it we talk about the mutual sharing of weakness as a foundation of authentic friendship. Take a look using the link below. (It starts at the 4:30 mark on the broadcast).

What is Keeping You?

Men should prioritize friendship in their lives and actively seek opportunities to engage with friends. Building meaningful connections with those around us is essential for mental, emotional, and physical health. Spending time with close friends can help us feel more connected, reduce stress, and boost our moods.

Additionally, it’s important to be mindful of our relationships with family members and show them the same attention as we do our closest friends. For the past three years, I have been calling my brothers each Sunday night just to stay in touch. I also phone my mother-in-law regularly to check in on how she is doing.

Making room in our lives for friendship is essential if we want true fulfillment. Not only do friendships offer countless benefits, but they also encourage us to grow into healthier versions of ourselves when we surround ourselves with people who genuinely care about us and vice versa. So go ahead, break out of your shell—it’s time you reap all the rewards friendship has waiting for you!

June 12: Inverted and Intertwined

Today, my heart is a wee bit heavy yet filled with gratitude as I reflect on this day. It marks the anniversary of my dear brother Ed’s passing three years ago and my ordination thirty-six years ago. This duality of grief and recognition brings a unique complexity to my emotions.

Losing a sibling is a profound sorrow that leaves an indelible mark on your soul. Ed was more than a biological brother to me; he was a fellow believer, a friend, and a source of imaginative ideas and loyal support to all his friends. His faith in God was a beacon of light during his most challenging times, providing him the courage to face adversity with grace and strength.

When I think of Ed, I often think of flying. Our last time together in Vancouver, hours were spent plane-watching. You see Ed was an air cadet as a youth, a pilot, and a balloon pilot. However, it was on MS Flight Sim that he logged the most miles. He showed me how we could be online together even at a distance, and while doing that, he suddenly appeared inverted beside me in a Top Gun kind of manouver. After his physical mobility was limited, he followed all my flights, asked me to send him the flight number, and then tracked me online to my destination.

One cherished memory I often revisit is our Sunday video chats – all three brothers on a video chat where we talked for hours about life, memories, very different experiences growing up with the same parents, and our shared faith. Those moments were simple yet profoundly meaningful, a testament to our bond. I miss his laughter, his creative often crazy ideas, and his gentle spirit every single day.

As I also celebrate my ordination anniversary today, I am reminded how deeply intertwined these are. Ed’s unwavering belief in my calling and constant encouragement played a significant role in my journey to becoming a minister, mentor and leader.

This day will always be a poignant reminder of loss and love, of pain and purpose. Though Ed is no longer with us, his legacy lives on in the lives he touched and in the faith that continues to guide me.

May all who have lost a brother or sister find strength in our memories and inspiration in our shared journeys.

PS: In the Mentored Podcast, Martin Sanders and I have two conversations about grief that you may find helpful.

Embracing Love: A Grandfather’s Reunion with His Grandson

There are certain threads of connection that weave hearts together in a dance of love and understanding. For me, this was found in a touching reunion I had with my six-year-old grandson, a moment that tugged at my emotions and stirred the depths of my soul.

Walking up to his school, the air electric with anticipation, I awaited the moment that would reunite us. As I laid eyes on him, his face lit up with recognition and joy, and in an instant, time seemed to stand still. He ran towards me, and our embrace spoke volumes, a language of love that transcended words.

Our bond is special, forged from shared moments of laughter, making movies, reading books, whispered secrets, and unfiltered honesty. It’s a bond that defies explanation, rooted in unconditional love and mutual respect. In his presence, I find a mirror reflecting back the essence of life’s simplicity and beauty.

It’s a bond that defies explanation, rooted in unconditional love and mutual respect.

There’s something magical about the connection between a grandfather and grandson. It’s a blend of wisdom passed down through generations and the fresh perspective of a child. Together, we navigate the world, each learning from the other in a dance of give and take.

Picking him up from school was not just a task; it was a journey back to our shared memories and the promise of new adventures. In his innocent gaze, I see the purity of a soul unburdened by the world’s complexities, and it fills me with hope.

As we walked hand in hand, I pondered on the essence of our bond. Perhaps it’s the shared laughter, the stories told, or simply the comfort of knowing that we are there for each other no matter what. Whatever it may be, it’s a bond that transcends time, distance, and circumstance.

As we walked hand in hand, I pondered on the essence of our bond. Perhaps it’s the shared laughter, the stories told, or simply the comfort of knowing that we are there for each other no matter what.

Reuniting with my grandson reminds me of the beauty of simple connections and the power of love to bridge generations. In his laughter, I find joy; in his eyes, I see the promise of tomorrow. Together, we journey through life, guided by a bond that is as timeless as it is profound.

May this weekend reunion serve as a reminder of love, illuminating the path ahead with warmth, wisdom, and the enduring bond that ties us together — grandfather and grandson, united in heart and spirit.

Let me encourage you to seek out and embrace the moments that matter, cherish the bonds that bind, and revel in unconditional love that knows no bounds.

Aging Reflections: A Road Less Travelled

Photo Credit: Jeremy Pue, Whitewater Productions. “A Road on Keats Island”

The photo above is one of the few roads on Keats Island and where our Better with Age retreat will be held. I love how the image draws you forward, but you do not know where it goes once you’re deeper into the forest. I do know that this road does come to a point where you have to make a decision to go right or go left.

It has been my lifelong commitment to inspire souls to lead, to find strength in their convictions, and to empower their steps with unwavering confidence. Now, as I reflect on the inevitability of my own aging, I recognize the need for those skills to adapt and endure. That is why I joined my dear friends, Dr. Paul Pearce and Dr. Paul Stevens, who taught a course at Regent College called “Aging Matters,” based on Stevens’s book. This is also why my wife Glenda, Paul and I are facilitating a retreat for Baby Boomers in partnership with Barnabas Landing called “Better with Age.”

Better with Age allows Baby Boomers to delve into matters of calling, spirituality, and legacy in retirement. In this environment, we want to be encouraged to continue to discern our purpose as we grow older and remain meaningfully engaged for the rest of our lives. We want you to better understand this season of life and reframe retirement as a time of continued calling and productivity. Better with Age points to biblical wisdom that can help us redefine aging as an extraordinarily fruitful season of life.

The Fork in the Road – Acceptance or Denial?

I found myself, much like you might have, standing at a metaphorical fork in the road. One path, worn by the countless footsteps of the courageous, is the thoroughfare of acceptance—a road where we acknowledge the reality of our age with clear eyes and a full heart. The other path is denial, coated with the veneer of youth—a tempting detour that leads one into a mirage, away from the weight of years and the truth they carry.

Choosing the road of aging is far from waving a white flag; it is an act of courage. It’s an uprising against the fear of irrelevance, a bold declaration that our sunset years can be as enriching as the dawn of our youth. Here, real love flourishes, the kind that endures beyond transitory feelings—a resilient garden blooming from the seed of commitment nourished by actions and deeds.

Guidance Through the Uncertainties of Aging

Allow me to impart some guidance drawn from years of whispering courage into the hearts of leaders, many of whom struggle in the twilight of their careers:

Acknowledge Change: Recognize the transformation in your body and mind as a natural progression of life, not as an enemy to be contested but as a companion on your journey. This acceptance paves the way for peace and prepares the arena for untapped growth.
Invest in Healthy Living: We must learn and practice skills to maintain vitality. Prioritize wellness, engage in activities that nourish your body, and cultivate habits that anchor your mental health. Remember, well-being is a discipline, not a mere stroke of luck.
Cultivate Lasting Bonds: True affection stems from the roots of shared experiences and weathered storms. Commit to your relationships, be they professional or personal, and watch as affection deepens into a resilient bond that time can only strengthen, not wither.
Legacy of Leadership: Aging as a leader bestows upon you the rare opportunity to reflect not only on successes but also on the wisdom harvested from trials. Pass down this legacy. Mentor the young, ignite purpose in their endeavours, and gift them with a compass that points toward integrity and authentic living.
The Virtue of Adaptability: In a world that glorifies perpetual youth, be the voice that champions adaptability. Model how one can simultaneously honour the past and gracefully evolve to adopt new perspectives, skills, and roles.

Forks and Roads – A Personal Anecdote

Like you, I, too, encountered this fork. I was living the “Life of Carson,” as my doctor once told me, and on the road of denial, thinking I could do everything I have always been able to do. Well, that is not true anymore. Now I chose the road of aging—the less-travelled road, and I am learning about new things and seeing how God still has purpose for us as we age. I accepted the graying of my hair as a crown of wisdom, and although my family DNA does not seem to flood my top with grey, I do see more than I did last year. The new lines on my face are etchings of both joy and sorrow, borne with equal grace.

What changed my perspective? In 2022, I spent three weeks in a hospital ICU. I was having a multitude of tests done on my heart due to an incident. That experience caused me to face, with some evidence, that I was getting older. To be honest, I fought it, but in quiet moments, while resting in my hospital bed, I realized I was entering what I now call the third period of the hockey game and with no promise of overtime. I came out of the hospital with an ICD, and a different lifestyle. This choice to accept my getting older has not been without its struggle, but it has been illuminated with an authenticity that actually makes life even better.

What road are you on? Pause. Reflect. Then, stride forward, knowing that you do not walk it alone. We all are learning lessons. My insights and yours are like lanterns left to light the way for others. May they guide you to lead with conviction as you inherit the mantle of your twilight sage.

In closing, remember readers, the roads we select will wind and weave differently for each of us, but the horizon is shared—the dusk of our days. As the Scriptures share, we do not number our days, but we can choose how we will live them. Aging is neither the end of the road nor the cessation of influence; it is a continuance, a testament to the lives we’ve moulded, the leadership we’ve inspired, and the legacy we leave behind.

Lead on, not despite your years, but because of them.

Baby Boomers and Faith: Finding Sanctuary in Aging

A significant number of people belonging to the Baby Boomer generation are individuals of Christian faith seeking a safe space to understand and navigate the challenges and joys of aging. As we age, we experience various transitions – from changes in our health, family dynamics to shifts in our life’s purpose. It’s an inevitable part of life that can feel overwhelming at times. However, there’s solace to be found in shared experiences and mutual understanding. One such sanctuary is the Better with Age retreat offered by Barnabas Landing.

Understanding The Shifts

As we grow older, numerous transitions come into play. We find ourselves transitioning into the ’empty nest’ phase as our children grow up and start families of their own. This shift can bring about both a sense of pride in our children’s independence and a feeling of loss as the home becomes quieter.

Health changes are another common aspect of aging. Our bodies, after years of service, begin to demand more care and attention. Adjusting to these changes can be daunting, but it’s not a journey one has to undertake alone.

Re-evaluating life’s purpose and values also becomes crucial as career and family-raising move into the rearview mirror. The question of ‘what now?’ often arises, leading to introspection and, sometimes, reinvention.

A Safe Haven at Barnabas Landing

The Better with Age retreat at Barnabas Landing is a haven for Baby Boomers navigating these transitions. The retreat will take place from April 8 – 11, 2024, and is led by Carson and Glenda Pue. Carson is an executive mentor, podcaster and author, and Glenda, with her vast experience working with children with special needs and their families, together offer a unique perspective on the challenges and joys of aging. Both lost their spouses and are remarried and navigating growing older together. They will be joined by Dr. Paul Pearce, a longtime friend and former director of the Centre for Healthy Aging and Transitions.

The retreat is all-inclusive and priced at $440 per person based on two sharing or $560 for single occupancy, and revolves around the theme of transition. You will come away feeling like you have had a mini-vacation with the exquisite meals at Barnabas, the comfortable rooms and the serenity of the view itself. It also offers workshops on topics such as losing a spouse, health changes, ageless connections, and aging with purpose.

Participants can join others in similar life stages to think, learn, and reflect together about how to live well and leave a lasting legacy through their words, actions, and faith. It’s an opportunity to share experiences, gain new insights, and find solace in the shared journey of aging.

The Final Word

Growing older does not have to be a solitary journey. Places like Barnabas Landing provide a safe space for Baby Boomers of faith to discuss, learn, and support each other through the transitions that come with aging, turning what might seem daunting into an enriching experience filled with growth and understanding.

For more information about the Better with Age retreat, visit Barnabas Landing or reach out to Evelyn at info@barnabaslanding.com.