Little joys, Big gifts

I have had many “little joys” in Haiti the past few weeks.

I believe that I am really learning how to appreciate the smaller things in my time here. It’s not that there aren’t plenty of things to be glad about, it’s just that they seem to be simpler, albeit purer, things. The holiday season, for example, is understandably difficult when you’re away from friends and family, but what I’ve been pleasantly surprised by is the way that I’ve been more aware of Jesus’ coming than I have been in a while. Although being at home makes me happy, I’ve found that being distanced from all of the “stuff” that comes with Christmas at home as well as from the physical closeness of family and friends that I’m more aware of God’s presence, more dependent on it, and more appreciative of loved ones.

Specifically, Advent has been richer for me this year than it has any other year. Advent is a time designed for waiting, but couldn’t it also be argued that Advent is about cherishing little joys and being mindful of their greater significance? I think that may be what part of waiting is, anyway. It’s knowing that greater things are to come—the coming of Jesus, for example—but also holding fast to the things that are given to us in that period of waiting. These moments are just as important because they offer the sharpest glimpse on Earth of God’s heavenly kingdom.

I like thinking of the little joys that have unfolded in my life recently and what their greater significance may be, whether they foreshadow something greater for the future or simply offer a concrete sign of God’s overwhelming love and care. I’ve listed a few of them here:

Student Nursery under way at CASB

1. Receiving a list of sentences in Creole written especially for me by one of my students. I chose a student to interview for our upcoming newsletter about CASB. She gave me a surprise gift at the end of the interview. She had written a four page list of sentences she had thought of in Creole with their French translations to help me with my Creole learning. This gift made me feel blessed and appreciated and it reassured me of the continuation of a positive, reciprocal relationship between the students and me.

View riding into Cange

2. Going to get coffee in the mornings while traveling in Cange in the Central Plateau. My friend and colleague, Alan Yarborough, invited me to spend a weekend in Cange, Haiti, where I got to experience for myself the community where he worked for two years before moving to Cap-Haitian. One of my favorite parts of the trip was going in the mornings to get coffee, bread and Mamba from a woman who made the coffee fresh every morning outside. We would sit on a bench, surrounded by other vendors and across the street from people’s homes and just watch and listen. Being able to walk around and visit with people on the street and in their homes was a real treat and something that is more difficult to do in a city. I cherished the opportunity to connect with so many people and enjoy the vibrancy of the community.

3. Trying to Bake a Haitian rum cake— Getting the ingredients to make my first Haitian rum cake took two days of shopping. Despite the fact that I didn’t put nearly enough flower in the first cake and it turned out more the consistency of a bread pudding, it was definitely the experience and the people that helped me to bake and eat it afterwards that made it worth the 700 Goudes of groceries. The most remarkable part of the whole process was how the cake-baking turned into a festive occasion. We had five people at dinner that night, put up some Christmas lights and enjoyed the second cake, which was decorated in green frosting (the only color dye we had in the house) and my name. 

4. Tagging along on a beach day—A family I’ve gotten to know over the past few months invited Alan and me to go with them to a tiny island, Ile Ara, in Labadee port the Sunday after Thanksgiving. It was a beautiful, relaxing day on the beach, but the best part was probably the boat ride there. I had a magnificent view of the landscape from the roof; the water and the mountains are so stunning, it’s hard to believe it’s all real. I was reminded me of what an incredible, unique part of the world I’m in and how lucky I am to be in it.

That's all I have for this post, but please enjoy the extra pictures below!

Collège St. Esprit, the parish school of St. Esprit Church in Cap-Haitian

Nave of St. Esprit Church

Lectern and pulpit

Altar

A depiction of the Last Supper on the cinderblock wall outside St. Esprit Church

Front of St. Esprit Church

Friends for dinner!

Bono kindly decorating my cake

This was the first attempt

The site of Bois Caïman, where the Haitian Revolution started with the planning of the first slave-led insurrection against white planters at a Vodou ceremony (August 14, 1791)

"The Slave Revolt August 1791"

Sailing to Ile Ara

View of Ile Ara

Jela Village on the way out of Cap-Haitian to Port-au-Prince

View of water pump in Bas Cange originally built by members of Christ Church in Greenville, SC and the Episcopal Diocese of Upper South Carolina in 1984 that pumps water up the steep mountainside (1,000 feet!) to the community.

Bas Cange

Living fully in service

What does it mean to be fulfilled? To have all the cracks in your life filled with something meaningful? I think I’ve spent a lot of time thinking that fulfillment is something more akin to “life/work balance” that today’s media tell us is so important. This “life/work balance” that companies and advertisements project onto young adults in particular actually has some pretty specific stipulations: you’ve got to have a job that you love and you excel at, lots of friends and lots of fun nights socializing with people, you’ve got to look good all the time and oh yeah, maybe find some time for God and spiritual development in the midst of it all. 

But even when I was trying to achieve this prescribed balance, I felt like I was pushing up against walls that my own mindset was building. Even when I’d worked really hard on something that was important to me, even when I was satisfied by my appearance and even when I’d head a full social life, there was still a crack in there that wasn’t being filled.

I’ve had a wonderful life so far, full of amazing opportunities to travel, study, form relationships and enjoy the love of my family. I did spend time journaling, praying or engaging in some other spiritual practice…and yet it felt like I was still pushing up against those same walls.

I’ve kind of taken up yoga recently. I say “kind of” because I haven’t established a routine by any means, but it’s definitely become more of a habit since I have experienced for myself the same positive effects that I have always heard it has on the mind and the body. What is interesting to me, though, is the mysterious disconnect between the actual physical movement and its effects. Yoga has been proven to brighten your mood, reenergize your body and help you sleep better. On a one-dimensional level, you’re just moving your body in ways that seem unremarkable (this coming from a beginner—I’m sure advanced movements are more impressive!) But then, somehow, you feel more relaxed, happier and fulfilled in some way.

In coming to Haiti, I’ve been learning to give of myself more fully to God’s service. I’ve found that I feel more of a sense of purpose and design than I did before. I’ve felt myself breaking through some of those boundaries that I kept coming up against through my work as a teacher, through new experiences and through chances to connect with people leading very different lives from my own. 

It’s not easy. I still struggle with relinquishing some of the things I’ve held onto that I’ve been so conditioned to think are going to make me happy. I know that I’ll never have the strength to give up all of those things, but somehow, the cracks are still starting to be filled. On a one-dimensional level, I’m teaching students about definite and indefinite articles in English, I’m going to church with local communities and I’m going to the outdoor markets to buy food, but at the end of the day, I’m feeling filled up in a way that I hadn’t before. I don’t know how it happens, but it seems to me that God’s service has that same mysterious disconnect—you’ve done something that seems simple and unremarkable you’re left with something that fills you up in an indescribable way.

Students working on a group project where they had to write a menu you could find at a restaurant using food vocabulary. They also had to write a script to act out a scene between a server and customers.

Acting!

Alan and I visited the campus of FSIL (The Faculty of Nursing Science at the Episcopal University of Haiti) in Léogâne where we were hosted by The Rev. Donnel and Janet O'Flynn, Episcopal Volunteers in Mission who I met during YASC orientation. This is a side view of the main class building.

Local artwork for sale hangs on the walls of the FSIL campus's main building

Janet, Donnel, Alan and me

The temporary, open-air building where services at St Croix Church in Léogâne are held. The sanctuary was destroyed in the earthquake in 2010 and the church has a special offering solely for the purpose of rebuilding it.

A short clip taken from the balcony of our house of a marching band processing on the Battle of Vertieres (Kreyòl: Batay Vètyè) Holiday on November 18. The holiday marks one of the most important battles fought for independence from the French during the final stages of the Haitian Revolution in 1803.

A relaxing day off by the pool at the Roi Christophe Hotel, about a 5-minute walk from our house

Doing some conjugations in preparation for the final quarter exam! Fun stuff

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.

One baptized community

As I enter my third week in Cap-Haitien, I'm beginning to focus more of my energies on the coming school term at the Centre d'Agriculture St Barnabas (CASB), where I will be teaching English to both first and second-year students. Just to clarify, CASB is both a 2-year vocational agricultural school as well as a center for wider community engagement in agricultural practice. Classes at CASB are set to begin next Monday, October 12th. 

I had the privilege of attending the CASB 2015 graduation with Episcopal Volunteer in Mission Dan Tootle, program manager of the CASB revitalization campaign. Graduation was held this past Sunday at the local Episcopal parish in the commune of Terrier Rouge (where CASB is located). Graduation was divided into two parts, the first being a full Eucharist service and the second being the actual presentation of diplomas with speeches by students, the director of CASB and faculty.

The graduation, as most graduations usually are, was a joyful event. The graduates who gave speeches spoke beautifully, thanking the CASB faculty and staff for their support and encouragement and for seeing them through to this important stage in their education. The director of CASB, an Episcopal deacon, spoke about the importance of remembering Haiti's historical ties to agriculture. He stated with confidence that the CASB graduates would be major contributors to Haiti's agricultural production, all the while using their skills to help enrich the land, thereby providing for others and initiating prosperous agricultural cultivation across the northern region and all of Haiti. 

One of the things that struck me immediately about this particular event was how obviously proud, happy and excited the graduates, their family and friends were on this day. The church was packed full of people, and the joy of all connected to CASB was clear. It occurred to me that this event, like many other "milestone" events around the world, was purposeful in that it was designated as a time for communion with both Christ and with one another. This was a time that had been deliberately set aside for rejoicing in both our relationship with God and our relationships with our neighbors. 

After the service, we went outside of the church to speak with some of the graduates and some of the CASB partners and staff. As we were chatting with various people, I overheard something that one of the clergy said in Creole (although I haven’t learned Creole yet, there is enough French in it that I’m able to catch words here and there and sometimes even full sentences). I’m not sure why she said this, or in what context, but it made me think about the pure, sacramental joy of this day and the hope that is spawned by communities that make up CASB and the Episcopal Church in Haiti. She said, “we are all baptized into the same community, so we help each other when life becomes difficult." 

What was so remarkable to me about what this priest said was how she said it. She said it in a way that made it feel completely commonplace. She wasn't preaching or in a church and she wasn't making some kind of formal declaration about the Christian faith. It was just a simple truth about how Christ, in his communion with us, simultaneously brings us into communion with one another, thereby obliging us to serve our neighbor as we attempt to serve Christ. Her feeling that this was a totally natural thing to say in normal conversation reminded me that communities that are formed around communion with Christ are the most important communities we are apart of. Whether we like them or not, whether or not we see them outside of church or school, we are called to love and serve them because we have been in communion with the same God. We are bound by the Christian message to love our neighbor.

I continue to be grateful for my placement in Cap-Haitien and at CASB, particularly because I am reminded that the community of CASB is built on the community of the church-- an institution that, above all else, endeavors to maintain communion with God. Words like those of the priest on Sunday make me want to draw closer to the communities of CASB and of the Episcopal Church. I have already been graciously welcomed and warmly received by the men and women I have met and I am excited to continue getting to know those who I will be in close communion with this next year. 

I hope to have more pictures in my next post, but I did take a few photos today of the CASB campus, which I have included below!

Front sign at CASB entrance

Front view of main school building

The front gate of the school was designed from various kinds of reclaimed metal and oil barrels in the 1980s

View of the hills on CASB property

Student nursery

Rabbits kept at CASB for a project with Food For the Poor nonprofit organization

One of our more frequent visitors at CASB

My First Week in Cap

I have finally arrived in Cap-Haitien, Haiti, for my year of service as a YASC missionary this past Tuesday! I have moved into the house that was rented for Alan Yarborough, another Episcopal missionary from Asheville, NC, and me. I’ve mostly spent this past week becoming acclimated with the city and with the differences in daily living. I am excited to get into a routine once my work starts, but have enjoyed the free time to learn as much as I can about my surroundings.

I will be trying to shape my future blog posts around spiritual themes; however, I thought that since this was my first post living in Haiti that I would treat it as a more informative post. So much has happened just within the first week!

I have settled quite comfortably into our house, which is spacious and has a nice covered balcony and a beautiful, enclosed courtyard area. We are literally smack-dab in the middle of Cap-Haitien, with the Place D’armes-- the main central square which includes the largest Catholic cathedral in the city-- just a couple of minutes away on foot. I have been getting more and more used to being able to hear every sound from the streets at night, including at 6 am when the cathedral bells first ring to mark the beginning of morning mass! The streets are busy in the mornings and afternoons with vendors, children on their way to and from school and people socializing and enjoying meals together. I have been to the outdoor markets twice to buy produce. The markets are a one-of-a-kind experience; the pathway runs through stand after stand of merchants who have set up their produce under umbrellas. I’ve enjoyed watching Alan, who can speak Creole fluently, communicate with the vendors when buying fruits and vegetables.

Speaking of Creole, I am becoming more and more persuaded that it would be good for me to take a real stab at learning the language. While I initially thought I may be able to rely on my French (and I have still been very glad this past week that I speak French, because it’s allowed me to communicate with some people), it’s becoming more and more clear that at least some grasp of Creole will be a valuable tool in my work here. Lucky for me, there are enough similarities between the vocabularies of French and Creole that I have used some French words to communicate with others. I’ve begun studying a Creole language learning book for children and have found that I can figure out the gist of the text due to the vastly similar vocabulary. Although the Creole words are often spelled differently from the French words, if you sound them out properly, you’ll often be able to identify the creole word with a French word. An example is “aimer,” the verb meaning “to love” in French. In Creole, the world for “to love” is “renmen,” which, though you may not think it has any similarities with “aimer,” when you sound it out with the correct phonetics, it sounds like “reh-may,” which sounds very similar to “aimer.” 

Since it's September, it's been extraordinarily hot here. However, I was lucky enough to experience my first rainfall last week. After it stopped thundering and lightening, it instantly became cooler outside, and everything and everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and the streets got quiet. I decided to sit on our back porch and enjoy the temperature, which gave me a wonderful view of people watching the rain from their own balconies and front steps, doing laundry or just chatting with one another. 

We have a water pump that pumps from a well for our shower and sink water. We usually turn on the pump for about 20 minutes every once and a while when we can tell that the water pressure is getting weaker. Because there’s no filtration system in the house, we buy treated water at a nearby store (you will see signs in windows of establishments that advertise “Eau Traitée”). We also have a small washing machine that we hook up to the sink. We filter the excess water out into the gutter by the side of the house and hang up our clothes on clothespins! I did my first load yesterday morning, and enjoyed the scent and feel of my freshly sun-dried clothing, which is somehow much better than that of an electric dryer.

On Saturday, Alan, one of Alan’s friends and I went to Belly Beach, near Labadie Beach, where some Caribbean cruise lines will often dock. It was absolutely gorgeous, to say the least! On the ride out of Cap-Haitien, I got caught up in the breathtaking landscape. We went up into the green hills, passing through villages and waving to people sitting outside their homes as we looked down at the sea below. When we finally got there, we swam, laid in the sun and ate a hot lunch. As you can see from the pictures below, I had very chewy grilled conch, rice and plantains! 

Yesterday was my first day of church at St Esprit Episcopal Church here in Cap-Haitien at the 8:30 am service. I never knew that an Episcopal service could involve any more singing than the services at my home parish in Raleigh, but boy was I mistaken! Much of the liturgy was sung with vigor and joy by the congregation, along with the assistance of drums, a trumpet and a keyboard piano. The sermon was preached quite passionately by Priest-in-charge, Père Auguste. Since the service was in creole, I couldn’t exactly understand all of what he was saying, although I do think I got the general gist of the message, which was the call for Christians to serve others as Jesus himself served the suffering. I was especially surprised when, during announcements, Père Auguste asked me to stand up and introduce myself. He asked me to tell everyone where I was working, where I was from and expressed the hope that I would continue to attend services there. I sincerely hope that I can develop a stronger connection with the parish and possibly with the adjoining school, Collège St Esprit.

I will be beginning my work as an English teacher with St Barnabas Agricultural School (CASB) in due course. I will keep everyone up to date with when classes begin! Tomorrow, I will be visiting the school for the first time, and I am really excited to see the campus! Alan and I will also be joined by a representative from Episcopal Relief and Development, an international relief agency of the Episcopal Church that is interested in the school and in its revitalization campaign.

Enjoy the pictures! Until next time.

Mango tree overhanging

Front door of house

Post-Orientation Reflections

I just got back from an amazing two-week orientation with my fellow YASCers in preparation for our big moves to different dioceses around the world. The training was held principally at the Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, New York, but we also had a few days in the city. Most of our days were spent hanging out as a group and attending sessions on cross-cultural adaptation, self-care, spiritual practices and more logistical region-specific information, which were all organized by the YASC and Domestic Foreign Missionary Society staff. We also worshipped, prayed, conversed and enjoyed moments of silence with the brothers of Holy Cross and were lucky enough to be the recipients of their words of wisdom and to be personally guided by them during this time of momentous transition in our lives.

In my view, the monastery was the perfect place for our orientation. For me, both times that I have visited Holy Cross (the first was at YASC Discernment Weekend this past February), I have felt a reconnection with my spirituality and with the person that I believe God truly wishes me to be. I think part of it has to do with the people I am surrounded by there-- the brothers live a spiritually-centered daily life in which there is much time carved out for worship, prayer, personal reflection and reflection with others. Several of the brothers held "spiritual practice workshops" for the YASCers over the two weeks we were there, some of which included yoga, meditation, journaling and spiritual direction. It was during these workshops, during meals and free time between sessions that we were able to ask them questions about our own relationships with God, about things we may be experiencing in life, and learn more about methods to cope with struggle and anxiety. I think the daily rhythm of life at Holy Cross also helped us YASCers to refocus on God and stop to listen to His voice. Attending the Daily Offices (Matins, Diurnum, occasional Eucharist, Vespers and Compline) along with ample free time to be used for contemplative prayer, bible study, rest and reading allowed us to be consumed by an environment that does not operate on the time or concerns of the outside world. For millennial 20-somethings, this is probably the biggest gift imaginable. Our lives seem to be constantly moving and full of activity, both in reality and in our online presence. The ability to be silent, to stop thinking about social media, friends/relationships back home, jobs, responsibilities, etc. is a wonderful privilege that I doubt many people my age have been given.

Our time in the city was admittedly a bit different--a little louder, a little more hustle-and-bustle and a little bit of a mental shift to the outside world once again. Is it strange to say that I think the fact that we had been at Holy Cross for a week beforehand helped us to better deal with the stresses and the general chaotic nature of the city than we would have otherwise? I felt refreshed, calm, centered and ready to take on the outside world rather than withdraw from it.

I saw a quote recently from an unknown person that stated that "peace...does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart." This is precisely what I think being at the monastery means for me and for others that visit. It's creating within us a greater dependency on God which allows for an inner calm and stillness that cannot be easily shaken. If I had to guess, I would say it is also something the YASC staff hoped we would take away from being at Holy Cross. As I think more and more about my time in Haiti, the more I realize that I will have to build dependency on God in order to retain that stability and inner peace in the midst of the chaos and unpredictability that is sure to come my way.

Although it's not really congruous with the theme of this post, I have to say a word about my fellow YASCers. I'm not sure--and I'm being completely honest about this--that I've ever been in a group of people, other than my family, that is more kind, more open to differences and more in touch with themselves, their emotions and their relationships with God. It's truly amazing to see the diversity of backgrounds, races, cultures, ethnicities and identities within this group of people and I have no doubt that my inner peace will be more easily realized through their support. I see Christ in each and every one of them and I believe it was God's will to bring us all together. We are called as a group to be honest, supportive, kind and merciful to each other just as Christ was with the human race. I could not be more excited to witness their journeys as they go out into the world and bring God's love to others.

*If you would like to learn more about Holy Cross Monastery, please visit: http://www.holycrossmonastery.com.*