I have a somewhat dysfunctional relationship with Time. Throughout my life, I’ve pledged again and again and again to be faithful to Time, but each vow sooner or later lapses into dalliance with Overschedule, Tardiness, or Procrastination, and Time is left standing there looking betrayed.

But, like most who flirt, my intentions are pure. I aim to permit adequate time for each thing in my schedule. I mean to allow ample time for transportation to and from events. I even try to plan for mental transition time—fifteen to thirty minutes when I can absorb the meeting or conversation I’ve just had before transitioning into the next thing. Somehow, though, it never ends up the way I intend.

When my daughters were little, I used to tell others that there was a Black Hole of Time that existed somewhere between our back door and our driveway. It consistently sucked up ten minutes just after I’d glance at the kitchen clock and before we were actually pulling the car out the gate. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with all the last-minute where-are-my-shoes-es or the I-forgot-my-lunchbox-es. Nope. Not poor planning. Black Hole of Time.

Just recently, I learned from my now eighteen-year-olds that they were convinced that there was an actual black hole out there somewhere, and they were terrified that it would suck them up. No wonder they’d look so wide-eyed as we walked out the door, scramble to get into the car, then look so relieved when the door slid shut. Something they’ll be telling their therapists about when they’re older, no doubt. Yeesh, kids are so literal…

Anyway, I somehow always seem to think I can beat Time. Like, you know, win. As if the rules of Time don’t quite apply to me, so of course I can squeeze a quick trip to the post office between my dental appointment and picking up the kids. Or, I really need that item from the craft store, so I’ll just run by and get it before meeting my friend for lunch. I mean, otherwise I might accidentally get there early. Eww. What do people even do with themselves when they’re early?

Besides, in our society, “busy” people are looked upon with admiration and respect, so why wouldn’t I want to jump on that bandwagon? And if I don’t have enough “real” work to keep me busy, I’ll invent some!

My loose relationship with Time has caused me—and others—no small amount of frustration. Family members sometimes tell me that events are half an hour earlier than they actually are, just so that I’ll be on time. When I got married, my best friend took over driving for me so that I wouldn’t be late for my own wedding.

It was my friend Katrina who finally caused me to see my Time issue for what it is: a control issue. See, Katrina hates it—HATES IT—when people are late. I’d plan to have lunch or dinner with her, and I’d always show up 5-10 minutes after we’d agreed to meet. Seems the Black Hole of Time was still thriving.

The last time this happened, I had texted her to push back our meeting time by 15 minutes, and even then I was 10 minutes late. When I arrived, she was silently fuming. I apologized, as I had done so many times before, and gave her my lame explanation. (These excuses always seem so much more plausible when I’m rehearsing them in my head.)

In the course of our conversation, she told me two different stories that involved her being angry at someone else for being late, and suddenly, it dawned on me: punctuality is her love language. When I’m late, it means to her that I don’t care. My tardiness triggered her to feel hurt, so she reacted to me with disapproval. Meanwhile, I was working on my approval-seeking issues, so I’d be damned if I’d try to be on time just to avoid disapproval. Thus, late.

The light bulb went off in my head: by trying to resist my own need for approval, I was telling her that she was less-than-important to me. Why would I ever want to do that? I don’t!

I had to take a long, hard look at my own ego, which had been driving the (off-schedule) bus. It was Ego that made me try to do “just one more thing,” as if that extra text, phone call, or errand were more significant than the person who was waiting for me to show up. After all, if that were important, then I was important. Ah, silly Ego! Step away from the steering wheel…

Now when Katrina and I make a plan to get together, I write the lunch date in my calendar and block out my driving time plus at least half an hour beforehand, just to be on the safe side. I strive to be on time, and it feels good to me.

So I renew my vows with Time, but with a new humility. I admit that I was using busy-ness to bolster my pride. I let go of my need to control others by being late and keeping them waiting. I take Time by the hand and whisper, “I’m going to do the best I can. Forgive me when I fail; I’ll keep trying.”

Until next time,