Dear friends, I know it’s been a while since we’ve shared a ministry update. So I want to fill you in on a bit of what’s been going on, so that you can pray for us and our ministry in Calais. I’ve been interested in theology for a long time. Anyone who’s been reading my posts for a while now knows that I grew up with a harsh, controlling theology that practiced shame and guilt. It definitely took its toll on me. But over the years I’ve been learning how to separate some of th

Wow, it’s Holy Week again. And just like last year I’m sitting here writing about death and resurrection from the perspective of a few women that I know. But it’s hard to say the same thing over and over again, hoping that something changes, and knowing that change seems to come slowly and, in this case, change is just making things harder for the people that we serve here in Calais. Our friends are facing a walking death in one sense. Their lives are of almost no importance

This place feels like home to me now. It’s going on four years that we’ve lived in Calais. The gray, rainy weather that we get in the winter gives way to warm, mild summers, when we can go to the beach and enjoy living by the sea. I’m beginning to wonder if I was always meant to be living by the sea. When we first moved here, I didn’t like it very much. Calais isn’t a beautiful city by French standards. The center of town was completely destroyed during the Second World War,

I am an immigrant. More specifically, I am a migrant. White Westerners often prefer the term “expat” when discussing moving to a country that’s different to their own. But in the end, it means the same thing. We are people who have chosen to leave our home country to make a life somewhere else. I am in France. The culture, the food, the language are not my own. Every time I need to do some kind of administrative task, whether that’s visa related or even down to contacting the