The art of being on time

As a little girl I remember being one of the first families to enter the chapel on Sunday morning. We left for church twenty five minutes early... and if we didn't, my mom was in a panic saying, "we're late! We're late!" Needless to say, my mom does not like to be late to anything. She subconsciously taught us that it's rude and inconsiderate to not be at least five minutes early to an event.

So I guess you could say that it's an ingrained habit of mine to be on time. I like to get to a play or concert at least fifteen minutes early. Church is the same.

Now, I don't always have to be early, but if I'm invited to someone's house, I make a point of coming on the dot. It frustrates me when I have two things back to back and I end up late to the second thing. Or if I tell a babysitter I'll be back by a certain time and then I can't be, I'm not only intensely embarrassed, I'm a wreck.

On my mission, I had a strong testimony that I needed to obey the rules about time (when we got up, left the house, came home at night). Because the streets of Honduras are dangerous (and dark) at night, sisters had to be in there apartments by eight o'clock every night. I knew my daily safety depended upon my obedience to this rule. I would literally apologize to my district or zone leaders and repent if we got home even a few minutes past eight.

I walked three fourths of a mile to and from work (for a split shift, so twice a day) at the last job I had. If I knew I was going to be more than two or three minutes late, I would call and apologize and give warning of my tardiness. I only called three or four times in nine months of working there.

Come wind, rain, or snow, I like to be on time.

As soon as I know what time I need to be somewhere, I calculate how long it will take me to get there, and how early I need to be. In short, I figure out, as best I can, what time I need to leave the house--usually with at least a few minutes of grace in case there is traffic or some other unforeseeable road block.

For example: Church starts at nine o'clock. I like to be in my seat no later than ten till. Adding in the time it takes to load Raymond in the carseat, adjust the mirror, drive to the church (going the speed limit), and unload Raymond upon arrival, I know I need to be walking out my front door at eight thirty five. This still gives me a few minutes for red lights, walking into the chapel, etc. This gives me time to not feel at all rushed (I hate that feeling).

So when I'm getting ready in the morning, the fact that church starts at nine o'clock is totally irrelevant to me. The only time that means anything is eight thirty five. The time I need to leave my house.  If I am not walking out the door by that time, I'm in that panic mode I remember so clearly from my mom growing up. I'm screaming in my head, "I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!"

Even though I will probably still get there well before nine o'clock.