I Need Thee Ev'ry MOMENT: Step by Step

You’ll forgive me for not blogging more. You understand we are very busy. You’ll agree that you are, too. Perhaps you’ll agree that life is so fast you seem to blink away the days. And yet, here, at least, the days are so full we seem to live three days in one, all the while blinking it away.

Typically I get up at 6, when the sun is coming up. I fold aside the mosquito net that protects me after fan cuts off, and look out the window to see what colors the sun is painting.

Typically I trot downstairs with flashlight handy to get the coffee going in the stove-top percolator. Then I head up to the roof to spend some quiet time with God while the sun rises and the world stirs.

By 7:30 we’re supposed to be at school or at least on the way. The past week we’ve been departing about 6:45, but in our defense we’ve had guests. And a few days last week there were two nebulizer treatments to give at 7. Oh, and remember, all times are Haitian. Haitian 7:00 runs anywhere from 6:45 to 7:45.

Once at school, which involves the short commute around motos, venders, dogs, chickens, wheelbarrows, papadap vans, floods of students in multi-colored uniforms, half-dressed women toting water, bicycles, and speed bumps, there is the barrage of students. We ooze through the clinging hands and clutching bodies, everyone eager for hugs and greetings. Up the steps, down the hall, unlock the office, set down the day’s supplies, which include daily teaching materials and the rotating assortment of medicine, pencils, toilet paper, crackers, peanut butter, and student gifts. Then grab the flags and song packets and back down the hall for teacher devotion.

Inside the first grade classroom the staff gather, minus the security guard and custodian who stay outside to manage children. And we sing. Every day another teacher directs us to a song, English and French or Creole, we pray, we recite a scripture, English and French, and then greet one another with kisses and joy.

Then it’s time for the children.

School runs from 8 to 1 for the three younger grades, and 8 to 2 PM for the elementary grades. My own schedule starts second grade full class English at 9 Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, heading to third grade at 10:30. I have a break from 11:30 to 12:30 which is usually filled with maintenance (filling water buckets or washing dishes), visiting other classes (particularly Preschool 1 with the three year olds), eating, doing office work (organizing, dispensing medicine, stapling torn books), and actually lesson-planning (which is what the break is intended for.) Last week that time included catching up with Beverly, who was in and out to the hospital, and checking in on our teenage visitor.

Today is Wednesday, so there was Bible assembly at 9. As Beverly is not here and Madame Rose arrived late, I directed opening assembly outside, partnered with Madame Alice, our second grade teacher. We sang, prayed, and saluted the Haitian and Christian flags. Then I stood at the doorway to each class to greet each child individually. This is always one of my favorite pastimes, beginning with the three year olds who compete as to who can respond “Good morning!” the loudest in their pipsqueak voices, to the third grade, many of whom are as tall as my chest already. Sandrina in kindergarten likes to say, “I am happy to see you, too!” whether I’ve said this or not, while tiny Marie Fine in first grade says, “Jesus loves you, too, Madame Rachelle!”

Once all students were in class, the troubled group and I prayed in the office. This group of second graders has been struggling with obedience and for the past several days begins the day by praying in the office for Jesus to change their hearts.

“We’re going to have a good day today, yes?” I asked them this morning. “No dezod? No misbehaving?”

They all agreed. We prayed. I hugged each one and told them to have a good day, then sent them on their way.

Two students had “bouton,” infected bumps, that needed antibiotic ointment. Ismael had a suspicious one on his ear that made me nervous. Yuck. Four year old Roodna had several on her scalp. Then our dear little Munley needed his treatment.

Last week Munley came to school with dreadful burns on his calves—a common injury from a moto muffler. Munley is three, extremely intelligent, somewhat stubborn, and irresistibly adorable. Like many Haitian children, he is nearly impervious to pain. He had to go to the hospital to have the burns scraped and treated, along with a burn on his toe. The latter has since become infected, and must be soaked in salt water each morning.

Madame Rose brought him in, put water in the tub, and Munley took off his sandal, scooted to the very edge of the bench and stuck his wee foot in the water. I bustled about organizing papers, sharpening pencils, and writing the week’s Bible vocabulary on a poster for 9:00 assembly. Once as I passed Munley grabbed my arm and pulled it to his face. I remembered just how tiny he is. A mere baby, expected to endure suffering in silence.

After the soak we wrapped his foot in gauze and Rose stuffed it back into his sandal. Munley watched this while continuing to calmly eat his crackers. He made no noise as his nerves surely screamed.

Munley went back to class with Rose and I shaking our heads after him. Assembly began at 9 with singing, the kindergarten to third grade classes filing in and arranging themselves on the floor of the Recreation Room. We sang “I’m in the Lord’s Army” and “Jesus Loves Me,” in English and Creole. Then Rose and I taught the vocabulary and lesson about Samson, who was deceived by someone he loved. In the midst of this our friends Emory, Mary, and Amos dropped by on their way to Port au Prince. Assembly wrapped up, students swarmed back to class, and I gathered up my things to begin second grade English. We are working hard on Stop, Think, Answer, and phonics. Critical thinking is not a regular part of Haitian curriculum, which relies almost solely upon rote memorization.

Class went passably well. I love them dearly, but second grade is a mess.

Third grade is practicing past tense and beginning creative writing. Today we talked about what we did yesterday, a holiday, and reviewed their homework. Their love of learning is obvious in their rapid ability to learn new concepts. Some of us practiced spelling with the game Sparkle while those who’d not done their homework copied sentences off the board. As usual, I dismissed students by name to wash their hands and collect lunch; some stayed to finish up their work. All were done by 11:40 and my “break” arrived.

Today my office duties included stapling torn books, administering fever medicine to a four year old, organizing English class papers for Rose, and neatening up the library, while eating peanut butter crackers. Oh, and of course I popped in to see the three year olds.

At 12:30 I collect a small group of third graders and we go to the library. This week we have been writing and drawing pictures about the books they brought home last week. Once a week these students can “check-out” books from our library by writing name and book title on a highly technical piece of lined paper. They each read to me and answer some questions. I send them back to class at 1 with a new book, and collect a larger, rowdier group of second graders. Last week and this week a day has been missed so I’ve put two groups together…and inevitably sent at least one student back to class for lack of cooperation. Small group is a privilege organized by ability level. Misbehavior revokes the privilege.

At 1:30 my schedule is finished. Usually that means at 1:40 the students are gone and I’m left alone in the library. Sometimes I stay to straighten up. Sometimes I set on the bench and lesson plan. Sometimes I head downstairs at once to do office work or check in with Beverly’s first grade English class, or just play with the kids outside. Those kindergarten and preschool students not yet picked up play outside in the courtyard and love to have company.

Today I went straight to first grade to assist Madame Rose and Madame Samanne who are running English class without Beverly. Beverly is gone to Texas for a bit following her mother’s death. We expect her back soon, but in the meantime do our best without her. Our school is certainly accustomed to doing without. Haiti is, too.

School ends for all at 2:00. There’s always a mad rush initially, and then students left awaiting parents or moto taxis. Today we had a tardy six. The taxi for four arrived at 2:35 and the taxi for two did not arrive. We left school with light rain at 2:50, piling the two leftover students and two intentional students into the backseat, Rose riding shotgun, and stopped for gas one block down. When we reached our street the taxi was waiting.

“Moto gen pwoblem,” the chauffer explained through the window as I stopped the car. “The moto has a problem. That’s why I was late. Exkise m’, sivouple.” Rose and I nodded our acceptance of his apology. We know this driver and he’s not usually a problem. Kingsaida and Marvens scooted out of the car, clambered onto the moto, and they were off.

That left the four of us to roll down the road, all pitted by the daily rain, and pull up to the gate. Saintilus hopped out to open it, as usual, and we got out of the car to the pleasant Ti Gôave afternoon sun and humidity. Always breathtaking.

We had electricity, an afternoon privilege courtesy of the soccer broadcast, so I got Adeline started on the nebulizer right away. Adeline is eight years old, diagnosed as severely asthmatic, and lives in an environment conducive to never improving. Generous folks donated nebulizers, and now Adeline can come home with us when she needs treatment, rather than waiting at the hospital.

After about 15 minutes, during which I kept prodding her awake with a stroke on her cheek, the medicine finished and we could eat. Rice and beans and fish. The table was quiet today without our guests, Beverly, or the house sons. Once we’d finished, I got my purse and Adeline her backpack and Alixthon, a cousin of Pastor’s with good English, joined us to go to the copy shop.

We collected our copies, paid the bill at 2 gourdes per sheet (63 gourdes to a U.S. dollar), and then dropped Adeline off at the house where her mama works. Rubbing my forehead for the nasty throbbing there, I drove us home, Alixthon directing me unnecessarily with exaggerated gestures.

At 4:15 we arrived home and I went upstairs. I got out of my beautiful, not incredibly comfortable uniform and fell down on my bed, sunburn itching back and shoulders. The fan was still on when I woke up groggy two hours later.

I don’t always take such luxurious naps after school. But I think I always need them. Now the sun is nearly set at 7:30 and I’ve done no preparation for school. I did collect my laundry off the roof, which I washed by hand yesterday afternoon before going to evening service at church. I do have the copies ready for English homework tomorrow and I am looking forward to hearing the kids’ progress. I refuse to think beyond that, for my heart is sad at Beverly’s absence and our guests’ departure. To consider a whole week without my other half, our amazing American director, her silliness, her joyful singing, her laugh, her hugs, our adventures, early morning and late night visits in her room—that is too much.

And so, as Rose and I agreed this morning, we simply go step by step, moment by moment if we must. The phrase “every hour I need you” falls short—every moment we rely on Jesus, every moment we ask for help. For the three year olds with infected burns and no one competent in basic first aid at home. For the kindergarten student who’s hungry but plagued by cavities and doesn’t want to eat, which may be just as well for Papa can’t afford to buy food. For the undiagnosed maladies, the unpaid debts, for all the mourning parents who don’t find their child’s name on the list of new students. Instead, we focus moment by moment, step by step.

Today is almost finished. I think it’s early to bed for me. So the next step is to fold that laundry and put it away. You’ll forgive me for not writing more. Some days it’s more than I can do to lesson plan and neaten my room. Whatever I do, may it be in love. Step by loving step.

“Lord, I come, I confess
Bowing here I find my rest
Without You I fall apart
You're the One that guides my heart

Chorus:

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

Where sin runs deep Your grace is more
Where grace is found is where You are
Where You are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me

Chorus

So teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
When I cannot stand I'll fall on You
Jesus, You're my hope and stay” – Matt Maher “Lord, I Need You”

“1. I need thee ev’ry hour,

Most gracious Lord.

No tender voice like thine

Can peace afford.

Chorus: I need thee, oh, I need thee;

Ev’ry hour I need thee!

Oh, bless me now, my Savior;

I come to thee!

2. I need thee ev’ry hour;

Stay thou nearby.

Temptations lose their pow’r

When thou art nigh.

3. I need thee ev’ry hour,

In joy or pain.

Come quickly and abide,

Or life is vain.

4. I need thee ev’ry hour,

Most holy One.

Oh, make me thine indeed,

Thou blessed Son!” – Annie S. Hawks “I Need Thee Ev’ry Hour”