I Want to Quit, but I Just Can’t

We just dealt with one of the most difficult situations we’ve ever had here in Calais. It was almost enough to make me want to give up and quit.

I can’t share details, but it’s been a very difficult week. In fact, I didn’t sleep well last night because of worrying about it.

Every time I think I’ve seen all the pain and suffering this place has to offer, it turns out there is just one more thing that can break me. And not just me, but everyone else involved as well.

But this time it was almost enough for me to throw in the proverbial towel. It was almost enough to make me want to quit. It was almost enough to give up and tell myself that I’m doing more harm than good.

I’m still kind of in that mindset.

But I know I won’t quit, move back to the USA, and try going back to what society considers a “normal” job. I care too much about our work here to quit. I believe it’s a work worth doing, even when I don’t think I can handle it anymore.

And we have a beautiful community of people around us, both volunteers and employees, church leaders and lay-people.

But sometimes I still want to quit.

It could be my insecurities, my constant questioning whether a decision that I’m making is the right one. Sometimes there is no right answer.

It could be my feeling that whatever I do will be wrong in some way. And certainly, there is often no truly satisfying outcome in this place.

So why do I stay?

I wish I could give a better answer than, “I don’t know.” It’s not exactly correct, but it’s not really wrong either.

Maybe it’s because I believe that my imperfect choices leading to imperfect outcomes are still worth making.

I wish I could say it’s something so noble as simple altruism, believing that what I am doing is always good all the time for people that need me. But that’s not it either.

I guess the simple answer is the best one. I’m here because no one else is. I’m here because I see a work worth doing and a severe shortage of people willing to do it. If I don’t do it, who will?

Someone needs to be here to stand up to the people who are hurting people. Someone needs to tell the migrants in Calais that they are wanted and loved. Someone with privilege needs to be here to help support those without that same privilege.

And that means sometimes making really awful decisions based on imperfect or incomplete information.

At least I know I’m not alone. Even though sometimes I feel alone or that I’m the only one with these emotions, I know it’s not true. There truly are many people around who love me and love the work that we do together.

I couldn’t do it alone, and thankfully I don’t have to.

I’m only speaking for myself here, and I realize that I’m using a lot of “I” language, but I can only share my own perspective and leave it up to others to share theirs.

Until next time I’ll keep repeating my mantra:

“I am not alone. And I can’t let the people I serve feel alone either.”

When the darkness threatens to close in on you, you can choose to run, or you can choose to let it come. You can be the one with a lamp to light the way for yourself and those around you. Even if you’re unsure of the way, even if you take every wrong turn, at least the darkness dispels and the light illumines some small part of the way.

If you’d like to support our mission in Calais as we seek to love the foreigner as ourselves, click the link below. We can’t do it alone.

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