Dean's Destination

Well, the week just kept getting better and better.

Tuesday morning started with a bit of adventure: I logged onto Zoom for a lively meeting with the Christ Church Cathedral Whitehorse Men’s Group. We caught up, tackled some timely topics, and then I led them in reflection and prayer. From there, I hopped in the Bronco and headed across town to the Church of the Northern Apostles, where a women’s group from the Cathedral was deep into some very fine needlework.

Now, when I say talented—I mean seriously talented. They showed me an array of handmade items, including beautiful stuffed animals they’ve created and donated to various worthy causes. They even let me hold the needles (don’t worry, no one was harmed in this experimental moment), and I had the joy of closing the gathering with a prayer.

After that, I met Bishop Lesley for lunch at the Gold Rush Inn. Over a Reuben and fries, we talked about ministry in the North—ways we could offer support to the Diocese of Yukon and how mutual ministry could help us both flourish. Somewhere between bites, we discovered a holy coincidence: I told her I had once served in Barrhead, Alberta, and she lit up—“That was my parish!” she said. Turns out, she’d been a lay reader at St. Mary Abbots before I arrived, having left about five years prior. We knew all the same people. Moments like that remind me just how connected we are in this beautiful Anglican family—degrees of separation in the church are often measured in hymnals, not miles.

Next up: Normandy Long-Term Care Facility. I was scheduled to lead a Eucharist there, and though our musician didn’t arrive until after the service, I improvised—pulling up hymns on YouTube. Pro tip: maybe avoid versions sung two octaves higher than your comfort zone… Still, it worked. As I was leaving, I met the 94-year-old cellist who had intended to accompany me—he’d just misread the time. No matter—we confirmed details for round two.

That second service took place at the Thomson facility, part of Whitehorse General Hospital. This time, the cellist was in place, and we had a beautiful little service with music, worship, and gratitude. Fun side note: at both facilities, staff and residents excitedly told me that “Pastor Clare” would be giving a concert next week. I made a mental note to check with Clare, since I didn’t recall “concert” being listed in her job description…

The rest of Tuesday involved remote work for New Westminster and the Cathedral, plus prepping my next vestry presentation. Monday had focused on team building, using tools from the Kaleidoscope Institute. Wednesday’s session would shift to leadership—especially Adaptive Leadership, drawing on the work of Ron Heifetz.

That evening, after a few more Zoom calls and wanderings through Whitehorse (getting a deeper feel for this place), I wrapped up the day with a sense of anticipation.

Wednesday morning, I claimed a table at the outdoor seating of Baked Café for some public office hours. More wandering, more conversations, and then lunch with Dean Vincent, where we reviewed the night’s leadership training and upcoming clergy plans. That evening’s session was packed: we opened with a KI Bible study, reviewed Mutual Invitation and RESPECT guidelines, and dug into Adaptive vs. Technical challenges, “dance floor vs. balcony” leadership, and authority vs. leadership. To keep the energy up? Chocolate and Bubly. Naturally.

Over the next few days, I explored downtown Whitehorse: the river, the sternwheeler, the narrow-gauge rail line down to Skagway, and the Old Fire Hall monument. I met up with Ben, the Director of Music at Trinity Evangelical Lutheran, where I’d be preaching and presiding on Trinity Sunday. Another small-world moment: Ben is good friends with our own Neil Cockburn and had nothing but glowing things to say. I suggested a hymn to complement the sermon, and he showed me the rest of his musical selections—beautiful and thoughtful.

Then came a bit of an odyssey: I drove west along the Alaska Highway—yes, the AlCan. The scenery was breathtaking. I passed through Haines Junction, stopped in the hilariously named (and tiny) Destruction Bay—population 42—and made it to the border town of Beaver Creek. I even crossed into Alaska briefly before turning back. It was a long haul—about nine hours each way—but oh, the landscapes: mountains, forests, lakes, bogs, and yes, bears—a juvenile and a mother with two cubs. Also, the road conditions? Let’s just say that melting permafrost has turned about 250 km into a gravelly, pothole-pocked roller coaster.

Back in Whitehorse, I connected with locals in coffee shops and on sidewalks. And then, Sunday arrived: Trinity Sunday.

I preached and presided at Trinity Lutheran Church—one of our full communion partners and a beloved sibling congregation. TLC and Christ Church Cathedral share events, monthly services, and clergy (including visiting Anglicans like me!). The welcome was heartfelt. A few folks had clearly done their homework: “Did you manage to get in some biking while you were here?” one asked, knowing my usual mode of transport. I laughed and confessed: “Nope—traded the bike for a Bronco this time.” They offered to show me the trails next time I’m back.

Another woman approached and said, “I’m looking forward to your sermon—a friend from Christ Church said I’d enjoy your style.” (No pressure!) Then came another familiar face: “Pastor Chris! Remember me?” And I did—she’d been a parishioner at Trinity Lutheran in Edmonton, where I’d collaborated with Pastors Ingrid and Markus. She moved to Whitehorse in 2013 but still remembered those shared ministries. And speaking of familiar names: Pastor Ingrid had also served parts of an interim at this Trinity Lutheran—and preached at our Cathedral in Vancouver.

After a joyful, music-filled service with the sounds of children in the air, I returned to Christ Church Cathedral for one last coffee hour. But not just any coffee hour.

I walked into Hellaby Hall and was met with balloons, streamers, flowers, and banners—“Happy Father’s Day!” “You Are Awesome!” And laid out before me? A feast: BBQ meatballs, deviled eggs, cheese, veggies, potatoes, desserts—the works. I moved from table to table, chatting and laughing with everyone. At one point, someone shouted “Dean Chris!” and the whole room echoed, “Dean Chris!”—like a Yukon version of Cheers.

Then the sweetest sentence of the week: “Dean Chris, can you come cut the ice cream cake, please?” “Cake?” I said. “Yes, we heard you like cake.” I may have blushed. I may have taken great pride in my cake-cutting skills. “Well,” I said, “I’ve had a bit of experience.”

Dean Vincent then presented me with a gift bag and the thanks of the congregation. There were hugs, laughter, and warm goodbyes. As I headed to the airport later that day, I reflected on what a gift this time had been—how mutual the ministry had felt, how full of potential. We’re already planning more ways to partner together, build up the Body of Christ, and serve our communities side by side.

I can’t wait to return.