Our stories

For as long as I can remember I have been attending church services. As a kid, that building was a most impressive space, one large room with stained glass windows, a balcony, a raised platform on which the minister stood, a choir loft, and a pipe organ. Two things stood out about being there: the predictability and the music. When you are ten years old, you live largely at the mercy of others. Their wishes are your commands, no matter how odd (or unwanted, or unfair, or wro

Sunshine, blue skies, and warm temperatures welcomed around seventy-five friends, volunteers, church members, and neighbors to the spring community event on Sunday, April 26. Thanks to the vision and effort of Jan Wilkins and the events committee along with many volunteers, kids and adults painted rocks, nature pictures, and a community outdoor mural. They also learned the art form Tataki-Zome in order to print plants on paper, and they played frisbee golf, explored the art o

My parents grew up in the 1950s and 1960s, and they both came from Christian families. For them, church was one of the only activities outside of school. On Sundays, they went to church in the morning, had Sunday school right after the morning service, and went to church again in the evening. One day a week after school, they went to church for catechism class, which was another hour or two. My dad also took piano lessons during the week, but my mom’s parents were small busin

We mostly worship in the morning these days. So in the early evening in the deep midwinter of Michigan the sun does not shine through the stained glass windows and the sanctuary looks dim. The parishioners shuffle in a column to the front where two pastors stand holding small bowls. The clergy dip a finger in water then in ash to draw a cross on each forehead, softly naming each person and murmuring, “consider yourself dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” It is a so

What’s in a game? Skill, luck, competition—sometimes winners and losers. But all the participants at Calvin’s annual Game Day had fun beating the midwinter blahs! All ages warmed up their winter with hot games like mini-golf and axe throwing. Crushed the cold with s’mores, cocoa, and popcorn. Combated cabin fever with crafts like making slime or a braided bracelet. And blasted the blahs with board games. If you missed it, Game Day will be back next year. In the meanwhile, loo

“I am an immigrant.” As I write this statement at the beginning of 2026, in the United States of America, I wonder if this could be a dangerous statement to make. Not only am I an immigrant to the U.S., I was also an immigrant to Canada in 1954, coming as a 4-year-old with my family from the Netherlands. I guess that makes me a double immigrant! Nonetheless it is a title that I bear proudly and with a deep understanding of what it means to leave behind one life and enter a n