20/01/2026
Wai-Ora Trust
No words seem enough♥️
Our heartfelt love and prayers go out to you and your Whanau, Rick. How blessed are so many through the aroha abundantly given by your beautiful whanau.
Your Mum, like your Awesome Dad, was a true instrument of practical love, straight from the Atua they both so faithfully served.
May He bring you all comfort and love as you come to terms with her loss, but also an appreciation of the legacy of her love not only in your lives, but in the community you are all at the heart of♥️
Today I write not as the CEO of Wai-Ora, but as a son. A son who has been deeply blessed.
Yesterday afternoon, surrounded by her whānau, my mum, Koka Wyn Ehau, went home to be with her Lord. Worship music played softly. Her hand held her Bible. It was peaceful, and it was so very her.
God's timing was perfect. Right up until an hour before she passed, Mum was still speaking to us — softly, intermittently in the end but clearly. No confusion. She was able to tell us everything she needed to. And we were able to tell her how much she meant to us.
When I look back now, I can see His hand in everything.
After 45 years of faithful service, He brought a daughter-in-law into our whānau who Mum could walk alongside, pour into, and hand the baton to.
Less than a month ago, Mum retired not knowing she was unwell — the transition complete, her legacy in safe hands. Only God could orchestrate something so tender. He had everything in place before He called her home.
Mum was one of the foundation members of Wai-Ora. 45 years ago, she and a small group of people stepped out in faith with nothing but a vision and a willingness to serve.
Until her retirement, she was the last of that founding group still actively involved in the day-to-day life of Wai-Ora — a living thread back to everything this place was built on.
She wore many hats over those 45 years. Finance Manager. Administrator. Board member. Kaumatua. But none of those titles capture what she really was. She was the one who made people feel like they belonged. The one whose quiet, steady presence made Wai-Ora feel like home.
Mum carried her faith differently to most. There was no preaching, no pressure — just a gentleness and an unconditional love that somehow made people feel safe enough to open up. That was her gift.
For the past 10 years, I have had the privilege of Mum living just 10 meters from our back door.
I got used to walking past her office every Monday and Wednesday and seeing her at her desk and having the opportunity to just stop in and see what she was up to.
I got used to our after-work cuppas in her flat — just the two of us.
I got used to her popping into my office saying, "Where are the receipts? You won't get reimbursed if you don't give me your receipts!"
Almost every Wednesday she would open our prayer meetings and each Wednesday I would call on mum to say the karakia over the kai at our community lunch.
And every Wednesday, something shifted in the room and space when she prayer.
Mum, you built something that will outlast all of us.
And you helped shape me into the man I am.
I love you. I always will.
Rick 💔
