The Sarnia Journal has partnered with local photographer Art Connolly to feature his captivating “Humans of Sarnia” series as he delves into the lives and experiences of everyday people in Sarnia.
On a quiet street in Strathroy, Gwendolyn Dekker’s childhood unfolded among rows of greenhouse flowers—her father’s wholesale florist business shaping the rhythm of family life. Her parents, Dutch immigrants who arrived in Canada after the Second World War, built more than a livelihood; they built a community rooted in faith, service, and togetherness. The church youth group became an early classroom—not just for friendship, but for what it meant to belong.
Years later, after earning her teaching degree, Gwendolyn found herself in Toronto, beginning both a career and a family. It was there that she met her husband, and together they had two children at the pace and pressure of city life. But something quieter was calling.
“We were kind of hankering to get out of the city,” she says.
On a whim, they left it behind for Nova Scotia—renting a cottage where the backyard opened onto the Minas Basin. The tides came and went like a living clock, reshaping the shoreline twice a day. Nova Scotia was also home to the birth of their third child. It was a place that invited reflection, even if they didn’t yet realize how much their lives were about to shift.
It started with a simple request.
“Mom, all the girls in my class go to Brownies. I want to go too.”
Gwendolyn didn’t know anything about the Girl Guides movement at the time. But she said yes. Her daughter joined—and loved it. When the family returned to Ontario two years later, that small decision followed them. Gwendolyn found another Brownie group, encouraging her daughter through the uncertainty of starting over again.
Then came a letter.
The unit would close unless more leaders stepped forward.
“I thought—I can do one year,” Gwendolyn recalls.
That was 32 years ago.
What began as a temporary solution became a lifelong commitment. Through Girl Guides of Canada, Gwendolyn discovered something deeper than volunteering. She found a sisterhood—one that stretched across generations, communities, and even continents.
“It’s not just a program for girls,” she explains. “It’s for women too. I loved the whole aspect of the sisterhood… helping girls become more confident, empowering them to choose what they want to do.”
From Sparks to Embers, Guides to Pathfinders and Rangers, she has walked alongside young people at every stage—watching them grow, stumble, lead, and eventually return as leaders themselves.
And in many ways, she has grown alongside them.
“It’s given me opportunities to meet people across Ontario. I’ve expanded my camping and canoeing skills. I still do wilderness canoe trips with friends.”
There’s a quiet pride in that—less about accomplishment, more about continuity. About staying open to new experiences long after many would consider slowing down. But the work hasn’t always been easy.
Volunteer numbers have declined, especially after the pandemic forced programs online. Units now sit with waitlists—not because of a lack of interest from girls, but because there aren’t enough leaders to safely run them. “That’s the hardest part right now,” she says. “Rebuilding our volunteer base.”
Still, she shows up.
Week after week—Guides on Mondays, Embers on Wednesdays. Even in retirement, her calendar remains shaped by young voices, curious minds, and the steady hum of mentorship. “It keeps me young,” she says with a smile.
Her role has grown over the years. She served a three-year term as an Administrative Community Leader (ACL), then after a break of a year did another three year term as a ACL with a co-Guider supporting units from Sarnia to Grand Bend and down to St. Thomas. It’s a responsibility that reflects not just experience, but trust—earned quietly over decades.
And then there are the moments that remind her why she stayed.
A former Guide—once a child in her daughter’s unit—moves back to Sarnia years later and calls, asking if she can help lead a Sparks group.
“It’s lovely when things come full circle,” Gwendolyn says.
There’s something profound in that image. Not a grand gesture, but a quiet echo. A life shaped by showing up… returning in ways that matter.
Gwendolyn pauses when asked about her impact. “I never know how much of a difference I’ve made.”
But perhaps that’s the nature of this kind of work. The influence isn’t always visible in the moment—it reveals itself years later, in confidence, in leadership, in the decision of someone else to step forward and say, “I can help.”
Her own family carries that legacy forward. Both of her daughters were Guides. Today, one leads a unit in Burnaby—with Gwendolyn’s granddaughter now part of the circle.
A tradition, quietly continuing.
In a world that often celebrates the loudest contributions, Gwendolyn’s story is something different. It’s steady. Enduring. Rooted in care rather than recognition.
Thirty-two years after saying yes for “just one year,” she is still there—on Monday nights, on Wednesday evenings, in meeting halls and campgrounds—helping young girls find their voice.
And while she may question the size of her impact, the truth is written in the lives she’s touched, the leaders she’s helped shape, and the community she’s helped hold together. Gwendolyn is modest about her efforts saying “I am just one of many women who provide leadership to Guides, it’s a team effort every week.”
Some people build careers.
Some build families.
Gwendolyn Dekker built something quieter—and in many ways, far more lasting.
And it’s time we say it clearly:
Sarnia is stronger because she stayed.
If you would like to learn more about being a Girl Guide leader reach out to Gwendolyn at [email protected]
Humans of Sarnia founder Art Connolly is a man fuelled by curiosity and a passion for connecting with people in Sarnia. Inspired by the renowned “Humans of New York” series, with a camera in hand, he captures the very essence of the individuals he encounters, preserving their stories through his lens. Follow his series at the Humans of Sarnia website and Facebook.
