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Having lived through the Russian Communist occupation of Latvia, survived capture by the Nazis in Germany, and endured the post-war years in a refugee camp, I look back on my life with a deep sense of awe. When I was accepted as a refugee in New Zealand, I began a new chapter - one that would unfold over fifty years in a land that became my home. Through it all, I can only describe my journey as divinely guided. Now aged 87, with my fifth great-grandchild born, I find myself reflecting on the road I have travelled - and, undoubtedly, the shorter road that remains ahead. In a world still filled with strife and uncertainty, I think often, and with gratitude, of the many moments when my life could have ended suddenly. How many people can say they have escaped death three or even four times? I have. And each time, I felt the presence of something greater - an unseen hand guiding me, protecting me. Some twenty years ago, I found myself in Australia - this beautiful land we lovingly call ""Oz."" It is here, in this peaceful chapter of life, that I've had the time to sit quietly and ask myself: Did it really all happen? The whole sequence of events that shaped my life, from the terror of war to the joys of motherhood, even the serendipitous moment when I met the man who would become my husband - did it all unfold as it was meant to? Ours was a mixed-race marriage, nearly taboo in the 1950s. And yet, here we are: three children, five grandchildren, and now six great-grandchildren later - still married after 65 years. He is, without a doubt, my soulmate. So many moments, so many coincidences, so many near-misses and miracles. I can only believe we were brought together by something bigger than ourselves. In the words of the song: ""I must have done something good.""

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