06.05.2025

by James Mortimore

I sat down and wrote a list of what I wanted out of the change I knew I needed in my life. At the top of the list was community and connection.

Meet James

If I was asked to sum up what my year in L’Arche has been about, so far, I would say it’s been the small, seemingly unimportant moments - the good ones, and the tougher ones.

I’ve come from 10 years in primary school teaching, where teaching en masse is the norm, where moments of connection are doable but fleeting, and even when they happen, the next thing comes along within an instant and drowns out the opportunity to ‘feel’ it, to reflect upon it, to actually process it.

Over a year ago, I sat down and wrote a list of what I wanted out of the change I knew I needed in my life. At the top of the list was community and connection: the L'Arche Internship promotional line that really landed with me was the opportunity ‘to connect with self, with others and with God.’

The moments that have kept me afloat here in Rainbow House, L’Arche Kent, have been moments with others. Importantly, they are moments of connection that are devoid of all the social constructs and anxieties and facades that so often have previously driven my desire to fit in, to people please, in other areas of my life.

With Pete, the repetitive joke routines of knocking on doors, the joy of buying ‘tapes’ (CDs) for £1 from the charity shop, and listening to them in the car on the way home. Stealing his nose with my thumb and forefinger and him, quite justifiably, asking me to put it back.

With Damien, his sheer delight at an imminent visit to McDonald’s.

With Ralph, the companionable, non-judgmental silence we share during walks together.

With PC, the person who many of us gravitate to for some sense of comfort, often the first person I head for having been away from the house for a few days.

With Rebecca and Terri, the joy of making pancakes together on a Saturday morning with fresh fruit, yoghurt and honey.

With Matthew, talking about Manchester United sacking their manager and playing table tennis together.

With Sal, us sharing candle time and her singing along to Maranatha.

Very sad, grief-filled moments of connection between assistants and people with learning disabilities alike, following the deaths of Geoffrey and Henri.

With the wider community, sharing the ritual of foot washing, a time where L’Arche embodies my and others’ values of simplicity, mutuality and deeper meaning.

Equally, there have been tough, tiring moments, and I don’t have it all together enough (who does?) to tell you that I can always focus on the lovely moments, and not sink into the ‘other’, but I know this: we gather on zoom each week as a L'Arche Intern group and share the positive experiences of our weeks (sunshine), the less positive experiences (clouds) and the things we are looking forward to (rainbows). Looking back through my sunshine comments throughout the year, nearly always I have mentioned or focused on one of these seemingly uninteresting moments. Something that I’d very easily forget about if I didn’t have the opportunity to share with a group that I have grown increasingly close to, ever since we first met in October last year.

The L'Arche Internship