Last fall I was trying to get my will updated, to which end I visited my lawyer. Having been born in 1941, I thought it would be useful to “get my affairs in order,” as the expression goes. I wanted to appoint my older sons as executors, and to entrust them with my property for…
Six years ago, the body of three-year-old Alan Kurdi washed up on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. A photo of him, belly down in the sand, went viral around the world. Perhaps more than any other factor, this photo shocked the western world into action. But refugees have always been with us. During the…
In the March 25 issue of Christian Courier, Tom Wolthuis asks us to think about the words and phrases that play an important role in our spiritual life. His list, he writes, has been heavily shaped by worship. When he worships in other traditions or in contemporary style, he misses these well-known, shaping words.
On the afternoon of Saturday, December 15, 2018, I joined a small group of immigrant Christians to worship in a borrowed Halifax church. They included both Ethiopians and Eritreans, who normally worship separately. Ethiopians use the Amharic language; the Eritreans’ mother tongue is Tigrinya.
The bottom line is this: all those millions of refugees around the world continue to need sponsors. And those sponsors, following the commandment to shelter the homeless, feed the hungry and welcome the stranger, had better be realistic about the effort required.
Only those who love making stuff can begin to appreciate the heartfelt satisfaction that comes from having created with one’s own hands.
“Sponsorship takes considerable time, money and miles on my car, not to mention the sheer emotional toll. When I wake up one morning from a desolate dream about 11-year-old Mohammed having been lost, I know that these eight people have become dear to me.” Read part 3 in a series of Anne van Arragon Hutten’s experience sponsoring a refugee family.
So what is it that we sponsors actually do on a day-to-day basis?
In Part One in a series on refugee sponsorship Anne van Arragon Hutten writes about one Somali family as they begin life in Canada.