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Three years of planning, form filling, team building. Three years of fund raising, house buying, permission seeking. Three years of anticipation, emotion, excitement and the moment had arrived, suddenly our passport photograph family were stood with us. Suddenly Community Sponsorship was more than an idea, a project, more than names, this was real.  Beyond the chaos of suitcase upon suitcase upon suitcase and translated hellos was Rana. Below her perfect hijab, were mother eyes beyond tiredness, telling an unimaginable story. What does it take to choose an uncertain future, to trust her family to passport photographs? Everything for this moment risked, Gatwick her portal from a life known to a life unknown. Certainty, albeit fragmented, gone. Heavy, grey eyes reflect belongings and loved ones left behind for an unshaped dream.  Bewildered she trusts and we leave.  Not a week later she explains, “for many months I have not slept, who are these people? Only photos and names”.  We’re eati

It is refugee week 2019, six weeks ago we welcomed an amazing family into our community, it all started with a simple question 'is Community Sponsorship something you could consider?'  Looking back I can hardly believe my reply. The simple invite brutally ducked out of it with a carefully worded, six bullet pointed apologetic for non-involvement. No house, no money, no capacity, a bullet list of fear and indifference. Looking back I can hardly believe how the doors opened. It was like a retirement was meant for this moment with it availability, willingness and drive. Meetings and dreams, planning and scheming and we were on our way. A new bullet list emerging. ·              A local authority willing to help and to guide. ·              A benefactor willing to give. ·              Our church both local and national willing to support. ·              A team willing to give. ·              A Home Office willing to guide. ·             Application forms fil

I don't tend to blog as much but this is a day I don't want to forget.... btw Jamal is a pseudonym --- I looked into his eyes and I saw why we had invested so much of ourselves into this project. “Thank you thank you thank you….” , we were at the airport and the Syrian family we will be sponsoring were with us in arrivals. The boys were beyond themselves with happiness. Jamal looks at his family and then me and  whispers ‘thank you’. Communicating through google translate Jamal reads my message, “we are looking forward to sharing life with you” , he looks up at me, tears well up. Full of emotion Jamal speaks into the phone and shows me the translation, “nothing I can say will let you know how grateful we are… we are safe”. Out in the garden, high above an EasyJet Airbus banks and changes direction, the engines whine in protest, Jamal violently sucks in air, ducks and looks at me with eyes of terror. For a moment hope cowered. I try to reassure but sense the i