In our family, I am the timekeeper. I make the trains run on time — or at least I try to. Of the four individuals in our family, I am the one who (a) knows how to read a clock AND (b) pays attention to what time it is.
I know how long it takes everyone to get ready in the morning, and I know when we’re running behind. That’s when I start issuing reminders — “We need to hurry! Let’s go!” until everyone (eventually) hustles out the door.
But here’s the rub: despite my nagging, our family is almost always late, everywhere we go.
Being late drives me crazy. It must have driven my parents crazy too — I was never once tardy for school. In the work world, I am usually early for meetings. But it’s a different story getting out the door with a 4-year-old and a 6-month-old in tow.
I’m getting out of bed earlier than ever before. Most days, I wake up before everyone else so I can catch a quick shower or exercise routine. Start time is not the issue. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what the problem is.
This morning, we decided to take our girls to a holiday church service. At breakfast I declared: “Our family is chronically late. Today we are going to church — and we are NOT going to be late!” For some extra oomph, I added, “God doesn’t want us showing up late to church! We have to leave here by 10:00am sharp!”
Everyone agreed, and soon G, N and I were ready in record time. Baby Sis still had to eat, but with 20 minutes to go before we had to head out, I was confident that we’d have plenty of time.
I was feeling rather proud of myself when I sat down to feed Baby Sis in her room. The room was warm, toasty and quiet, and I settled into our feeding session with a book. No need to look at the clock — I’d just keep checking my watch.
I was so relaxed and calm that I didn’t notice that the second hand had stopped moving at approximately 9:50am. Absent-mindedly, I kept checking my watch and thinking to myself, wow, this is nice. Time seems to be moving so slowly!
Baby Sis had been finished for a while when I finally went downstairs. I noticed that the clock said 10:10am. Panicked, I realized that my watch had stopped. Now I was the one making us late!!
It must have been God’s way of telling me to relax and not worry so much. By the way — even though we left at 10:10, we still made it to the service — a few minutes early. Maybe we just need a little divine intervention!!
are you saying I don’t know how to read a clock?