Guys, I have a problem. It's called being on time. And it's gotten really bad lately, especially if I have to be anywhere by or before 8 am, which has been a regular occurrence these past 2-3 weeks. There have been a number of times that I've had to be out at Lutheran High by 7:30 or 8 am. I consider it a major victory if I'm there within five minutes of the deadline. I've also discovered that there is a law related to this phenomenon of mine. I've entitled it Katie's Law of Time. It goes something like this: No matter how early I get up or how hard I try, in the end I will inevitably be late. It's highly discouraging, especially because it really bothers my director and I basically feel worthless as a person when I come running in de facto, even if it's only by 2 or 3 minutes.
Statistically, if you count all the times that I ever have to be somewhere on time, I'm honestly batting about .275. In the mind of my director though, it's more like .200 since the majority of the times that I'm late are when I have to be at Lutheran... usually for something important. Like the bus leaving for tour. Or contest. Or when I'm adjudicating for the Grade School Festival. It doesn't matter how early I get up or how much I prepare beforehand, in the end I will still be late. What can I say? Shit happens. Literally.
Case in point: This morning I was supposed to be out at Lutheran at 8 am. This is at least the sixth or seventh time in the past three weeks I've had to be out there at that time (or earlier). It takes me roughly 35 mins to get there from my house right now. I came down the stairs at 7:10 to make coffee and scoot. I still had to finish my make-up but I figured I could put it on while the coffee was being made, get my cup ready to go, grab a banana, leave by 7:20 and be fine. I was the first one down the stairs and as I made my way through the living room to the kitchen, I felt something soft under my left foot...
[... before I go on, a little context: within the past month, my housemom had decided she was going to Africa on a missions trip. She's raised money and has been on a number of trips prior to this. The non-profit she runs sponsors an orphanage over in Kenya and they've done all kinds of projects. The object of this trip was to take supplies and meet up with an American who will help finish building a well for the orphanage. And of course, today was D-Day: she left this afternoon around 3 pm -- incidentally, this week I'm crashing at a number of friends houses since it's inappropriate for me to stay there alone with her husband, but I digress... The point here is that last night she pulled out the suitcases to start packing, which of course sent their lovable golden retriever into a fit of pouting since he's been traumatized by them moving two or three times within the past three or four years. He was not a happy pup at the sight of multiple suitcases being stocked with supplies being sent to Kenya. In his mind, he was like "Nuh-uh. Not again"... ]
... it took me about two steps to realize what I'd stumbled upon. Literally. Such an interesting present for me to find at 7 am. And of course, being the first one downstairs, stepping in it, and knowing they had a lot going on today, who cleaned up puppers' mess off the hardwood floor? Off the shag carpet? Off of my shoe? Yes. Oh yes. Oh... yes... And I still had to finish make-up. I cleaned everything up, washed hands, finished getting ready, left without coffee, and grabbed a banana on my way out the door, but it was too late. The damage was done. Estimated time of departure was 7:25 am. I drove like a mad woman and pulled into the parking lot at Lutheran at 8 am on the nose, when I should have been in my judge's chair waiting to hear my first little pianist.
No matter how early I get up or how hard I try, I will inevitably be late...
Last week, I was late by 3 minutes on contest day because even though I had made both my lunch and my breakfast the night before and packed my bags to be ready to go, of course I had forgotten to get gas the night before and while en route to school, my gas light came on. Somehow I managed to pull over and get gas in (no joke) 2 minutes but once again, nicht sehr gut...
I've spent a lot of time thinking about this issue over the past three weeks... i.e. as my director gets more and more miffed with each truancy. I honestly don't blame her. I appreciate people who are on time, mostly because it validates the fact that I didn't screw something up in my schedule or dream that I was supposed to be somewhere when I wasn't. I've thought about the fact that when I'm late, I'm basically telling people that I'm more important than they are. I've thought about how I have too much going on in my life right now to keep it all together and ticking in a timely manner. I've thought about how I was raised by someone who was and still is consistently late. I've thought about how my brain is still in college mode while my body just doesn't want to haul ass to get stuff done anymore (in college I knew exactly how to use 7 minutes worth of time and it normally included doing no less than 10 things... and somehow I nailed it every time). I've thought about how people are more important than deadlines, how it's better to take care of the business at hand and do a good job (even if it's cleaning up dog poo or driving safely), worrying less about the immediacy and urgency of minutes rolling by. And I've thought about grace and how much I value being extended grace, while simultaneously being called out of my problem with time-keeping (it really bothers me when people slather anger and guilt on me over their frustrations with me being late... it makes me feel like nothing else I have to offer is valuable. I promise I'm working on it...). I've also thought about how I try to defend myself in my mind, lashing out angrily and justifying myself by saying things like, "People just do not understand what a major victory it is for me to leave the house and get somewhere on time..." Indeed it is such a battle, but it doesn't mean it's ok.
But what I think it really boils down to is this: When you live deeply... I mean, when you're really living deeply, things like time limits and deadlines matter less than the people and thoughts and beauty and trauma you're coming into contact with. And maybe that's a cop-out. Maybe that's just another way of saying "there's too much going on and I clearly can't handle it..." Partly yes. But I think in my world, there will always be too much going on, even if it seems to others that there's nothing going on. I honestly think it's just one of the ramifications of fighting the battle I'm called to in this world. Every time I arrive somewhere safely and relatively on time, I count it a major victory: I am here. I made it. Let's live the dream.
Some people will always be punctual. And they honestly deserve a medal. But some people will never understand. And I will just have to accept the consequences of that. Because there are more important things than being perfectly on time.
"Yep, I'm late. I am ever so sorry. Please forgive me...?"
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