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.*

A time to give thanks

Having just returned home from a week-long mission trip to Belize with the youth of Christ Church Raleigh, I thought I would go ahead and get through the long list of thank-you notes I needed to write to those who have contributed to my mission in Haiti. Although I began writing note after note with dread--assuming it would be an absolute slog--I ended up enjoying the process more than I had originally thought I would. It was touching to see who all had contributed, and I actually enjoyed trying to personalize each note to the particular person(s) I was writing to (ok, so they aren't all super personalized; some of them sound pretty repetitious, but I tried to switch up the wording every now and then!)

But in all seriousness, when I opened the email from the director of finances at Christ Church with a list of my donors so far, I was both pleasantly surprised and touched not so much by the total amount of donations, but by the long list of individual names of those who had contributed. The majority of the people who have given are members of Christ Church, and while I don't want to underrate the importance of donors who are not Christ Church members (thank you, thank you!) I was struck by the incredible, God-given support that my church community has given me since the announcement of my mission year. I am so lucky to have people--not all of whom even know me personally, but know other members of my family or simply believe in supporting a fellow parishioner--that jump at the chance to help make my dreams come true. 

This love that I've felt radiating over me lately isn't just from the numerous people who have donated;  it's also from the love of the clergy and staff of Christ Church who have helped me with planning the fundraising process, publicized my mission to the congregation, and supported me in my discernment of YASC. I could not have done any of this without them, and you can be sure that I wouldn't be as close to my financial goal if it wasn't for their desire to assist me in such a daunting task. 

All of these things--financial giving, supporting me in my mission and goals and helping to make it all come together--made me realize just how loved I really am by the people who surround me every Sunday. It took a little time for me to stop and think about this to realize that the love of the people of Christ Church is God's love incarnate. It seems to be one of the more close-to-perfect examples of God's love being an active force in my life. It's not always easy to see how God's love is shaping and changing you and your future, but this has been one of those times when it's been clear as day. I am thankful for times like these when I feel the powerful love and support of others, because it makes God seem a little more real to me. It reinforces my belief, my connection and my relationship with Him. It helps sustain me in times when I'm not sure if He's there and in times when I am desperately praying for His guidance and protection.

So thank you, Christ Church. Thank you for blessing me with the desire to serve, with a love of community and with a support system that will never fail me. 

"Marinating" in the Spiritual

David Brooks wrote a opinion piece a few weeks ago in his column for the New York Times, "Building Spiritual Capital" (I haven't been able to figure out how to copy and paste a link on blogspot, but you should be able to find it if you go to the NYT website). He refers to a book by Lisa Miller, a professor of education and psychology at Teacher's College, Columbia University, entitled "The Spiritual Child" which uses statistical studies to show that humans are all born with some sense of spirituality. She defines this innate spiritual awareness as "an inner sense of relationship to a higher power that is loving and guiding." Brooks adds that while most children do seem to have an automatic understanding of "the oneness of creation, and a sense of a transcendent, nonmaterial realm," many of these children do not have the adult guidance they need to build on this spiritual identity. Without the necessary direction from parents or teachers to explore this part of one's self-identity, a child's spiritual self will more than likely remain untapped in the recesses of the subconscious rather than developing into an integral part of a person's life.

I have found Brooks's argument to ring true at least in my own life. While I can't attest as to whether or not my spiritual self would have remained uncultivated without direction from adults, I can firmly attest to the value of adults' investment in my spiritual development as a child and teenager. As a 22-year-old, I am not yet too distanced from childhood to realize that my parents' facilitation of the development of my spirituality has made an impact on my decision-making in college and right out of college. What did this look like, exactly? It was my parents' insistance that we go to church most Sundays and that we remain active in church life. I remember being particularly perturbed one Sunday when we had been forced to go to church and tearfully asking why we had to go. I clearly remember my mom saying to me, "because that's what our family does. We go to church, and that's just how it is." 

To some people who may have grown up belonging to a faith tradition but for whom the institutional aspect of that religion (i.e., attending church, temple, mosque) did not play a major role in their upbringing--or to people for whom any religion at all was not in the picture--insisting that the family commit to attending a worship service for which the only reason seems to be "because that's what we do," may seem alien and without legitimate purpose. But for me, at least, it played a major role in my spiritual growth. While attending church as a little girl with my parents and siblings on Sundays may not seem to have made any discernable difference in my relationship with God for a number of years (I often didn't listen to the sermon because I didn't care and the only reason I liked going to church was getting to see my friends and eat donuts at Sunday School), eventually, the "marinating" effect of having been required to go started to manifest itself in my growing interest in God and the Church. As an adolescent and older teenager, I developed a strong love for Church and a stronger connection with my spiritual side. All of those years of going to church, participating in the youth program, seeking direction from ministers and priests, joining Christian fellowship groups, becoming interested in the other religions of my friends and finding a church in my university town built the foundation for the current state of my faith today. Now, I actually want to go to church on my own and have ended up becoming an official employee of the Episcopal Church as a missionary.

While going to church on a regular basis was the route my parents took to building my siblings' and my own spiritual selves (and I would argue that participating in the institutional side of a religion as a child has added benefits from other kinds of spiritual nurturing...but that 's for another post), I do think adults can invest in a child's spirituality in a positive way that does not involve participating in an established faith tradition or even being affiliated with one. I liked to ask lots of questions when I was younger, often in car rides from school to dance classes or at other moments when I had the undivided attention of one of my parents. My mom or dad always listened to me and at least tried to give responses to questions that probably seemed impossible to answer. Sometimes, the questions weren't even about God or church or anything that seemed directly related to Christianity, religion or spirituality. Sometimes, they were questions like, "This girl in my class at school is always bragging. Why is she doing that?" My mom or dad might have guessed that she craved attention because she didn't get it at home or that maybe she thought that she needed to brag for people to like her. Again, these talks didn't seem to have any direct relation to spirituality--and yet, something about them hinged on spirituality because they were dealing with the deep psychology of a human being. And isn't that where our spiritual selves come from? Our spirituality dips into every side of ourselves-- our insecurities, our strengths and our relationships with other people. There's not one part of ourselves that does not somehow involve our spiritual senses. 

Even though I myself have grown a lot spiritually since I was a young girl, I am by no means the end-result of what intentional spiritual nurturing can produce. Although Brooks's article and Miller's book focus specifically on spiritual development during childhood, spiritual development certainly extends beyond childhood and into the different stages of adulthood. Now that I (kind of/sometimes not at all) feel like I have "crossed" the threshold of adulthood, I can look forward to the kind of spiritual nurturing that will come with continued investment in my spiritual side and involvement in the church. The only difference is that  I am now taking the reins in my faith. I know that Haiti will provide opportunities for spiritual growth in ways that I have probably never imagined. I am eager to see how this experience will change me into a person who is hopefully closer to the person God has intended for me to be; a person who is at greater peace with herself and at a greater intimacy with her spiritual core.