Staying

I have thought a lot about the importance of “staying” lately. What do I mean by “staying”? If you’ve read former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams’ book Where God Happens, you may have a clue. For those of you who haven’t, I’ll give a very simplified (and therefore probably limited) explanation of what Williams means when he refers to this. Williams explains that “staying” is when we draw closer to God by embracing exactly who we are at present and exactly where we are. One of the most important things Jesus does is pledge himself to the real world instead of to a world of fantasy and distraction from the moment we’re in. By embracing reality along with the challenging and difficult parts, we’re actually turning towards God. This is where, Williams argues, true goodness happens.

Why am I using “staying” as an introduction to this post? I’ve come to understand within the past couple of weeks the cruciality of “staying” during my time in Haiti. Obviously, “staying” in the physical sense, but also in the mental and spiritual senses. I believe that “staying” in my particular situation calls me to remain in the present moment, soaking up all that I can about the people and God’s work here as the weeks tick by. A year seems like a long time, and it definitely is in some ways, but even as I enter my second month here, I’m realizing that my time in my placement is never getting longer, but shorter.

Perhaps the most important part of my placement in Haiti that I feel the need to stay present in is my teaching. By putting in the effort to encourage my students and readjust my teaching style or pace when necessary, I’ve quickly come to enjoy teaching and cherish the relationships I’ve already begun to form with my students. When I am really in “the zone”—that is, I’m completely focused on whatever concept I’m trying to teach or clarify—if the students understand the concept, I feel much more of a sense of value and fulfillment in my work than if I am distracted by something unrelated. 

I’ve come to love the little moments of victory. When my students smile or laugh in class; when I ask them to present their homework in front of everyone and I can tell that they understood the assignment; when I see that they’re having fun with a game; when their eyes aren’t glazed over at me when I’m trying to explain how apostrophes can be used to indicate possession in English (not applicable to French or Creole). 

So, it is with God’s hand that I “stay” joyfully, and for as long as possible, in the moments that daily life in Haiti brings.