On being late.

I was a few minutes late to church today - the singing had just started when I slipped into my seat. I'm not usually late; I prefer to be early. But today, I was late, and I smiled because it reminded me of my childhood. Of the weekly "walk of shame," as I called it, dutifully following my family down the church aisle as we marched to the front of the sanctuary five or ten or fifteen minutes late, my father scanning the rows for one with enough seats to house the three or four or five or six or eight of us there that day. I was a master at avoiding eye contact during this weekly walk; I thought for sure everyone was silently judging me. In hindsight, they likely didn't think twice about a family entering late; but the experience (coupled with chronic lateness to every other activity, from co-op to soccer practice), was enough to hammer out a pure determination to, as much as it depended on me, never be late again.

I laugh at myself now; how silly I was to obsess over such a trivial thing for so many years. When I started driving myself and living my own life, I prided myself in always being early. I was a junior in college before I entered a class late; and then it was only because my car emergency brake had frozen on, and no amount of cajoling or railing or tears would get it to budge. I eventually made it to class with a borrowed car, mortified and apologizing profusely to the professor, who was usually late to class himself and probably didn't care a bit that I walked in halfway through the lesson.

I used to think the chronic tardiness of my family is what fueled my obsession with being early; but in reality, it was pride - ugly pride that made me think I was too important to walk into a room last. I'm not saying it's wrong to be early; on the contrary, I am still almost always early. In my profession, you're late if you are on time. A 2:00 o'clock rehearsal means you are in your seat ready to play no later than 1:55; a 4:00 pm lesson means my teaching materials and instrument are out and ready to go when my student arrives at 3:58 pm. These are good and healthy habits, showing preparation and respect for others by not wasting their valuable time. But there is a difference between being punctual out of respect for others, and being punctual because I am too proud to be late. There's a balance somewhere. I can't say I've found a perfect balance - but let's just say I no longer do the walk of shame if I happen to enter church late. This morning I simply smiled and nodded at a few people I knew, found my seat, and started worshiping. It's not about me, after all. It never was.