We sat around the table at the restaurant finishing up our delicious dinner of chicken, beans, rice and fried plantains (my favorite!). As we collected the leftovers onto a couple of plates and handed them to two little boys waiting expectantly with watering mouths, we began discussing our mission in Honduras.
My fear is always that I will learn something new about myself, my culture, or the Honduran culture, and then within a few weeks or months I fade right back in to my previous way of thinking. Sometimes I've learned things that I can't really pinpoint - more of an awareness that grips me, but I can't quite put it into words. Sometimes I learn things that I don't want to learn. Other times it's things that don't seem to affect me as strongly as maybe they would if I were in another stage of life or another mind set.
Not this time. This time it stared me in the face and said, "Get this." So when the discussion turned to what our "take-away" from the week was, I knew what mine needed to be. Time.
See, in many Latin American cultures, time is just a guideline, a suggestion. Yes, they know how to tell time and are quite good at knowing the exact time without using a watch. I've known this since my first international mission trip to Jamaica in 1992. Whatever country you're in, you just go by their time. We even prep our mission teams for months that "Honduran time" is just the way it is. Two in the afternoon really means anytime between noon and four, give or take a couple hours.
We tend to think that when someone is late, they are being inconsiderate of the other person's time - even being selfish. We start meetings saying we want to "respect your time." "Time is valuable." "Time is money." "Time-effecient." "Time-sensitive."
I've always been a rusher. How many things can I fit in to this block of time? Sure, I can squeeze this task in this little nook of time. And I hate being late. So I'm always rushing from time card stamp to time card stamp. I live by the clock. And I don't even wear a watch.
But Honduran time. Aaahhh, Honduran time. I finally figured it out. They're not lazy. They're not selfish. They're not cramming too-large tasks into too-small time slots. They're talking with the neighbor. The corn they're grinding is taking longer than usual. They ran out of water and have to go pump some more. They're helping a young mother with her laundry. They're having a conversation with a friend. They don't know what time they'll show up, because they don't know what other things will become necessary - or which person will need them. They don't live by the clock.
They live by relationship.
My fear is always that I will learn something new about myself, my culture, or the Honduran culture, and then within a few weeks or months I fade right back in to my previous way of thinking. Sometimes I've learned things that I can't really pinpoint - more of an awareness that grips me, but I can't quite put it into words. Sometimes I learn things that I don't want to learn. Other times it's things that don't seem to affect me as strongly as maybe they would if I were in another stage of life or another mind set.
Not this time. This time it stared me in the face and said, "Get this." So when the discussion turned to what our "take-away" from the week was, I knew what mine needed to be. Time.
See, in many Latin American cultures, time is just a guideline, a suggestion. Yes, they know how to tell time and are quite good at knowing the exact time without using a watch. I've known this since my first international mission trip to Jamaica in 1992. Whatever country you're in, you just go by their time. We even prep our mission teams for months that "Honduran time" is just the way it is. Two in the afternoon really means anytime between noon and four, give or take a couple hours.
We tend to think that when someone is late, they are being inconsiderate of the other person's time - even being selfish. We start meetings saying we want to "respect your time." "Time is valuable." "Time is money." "Time-effecient." "Time-sensitive."
I've always been a rusher. How many things can I fit in to this block of time? Sure, I can squeeze this task in this little nook of time. And I hate being late. So I'm always rushing from time card stamp to time card stamp. I live by the clock. And I don't even wear a watch.
But Honduran time. Aaahhh, Honduran time. I finally figured it out. They're not lazy. They're not selfish. They're not cramming too-large tasks into too-small time slots. They're talking with the neighbor. The corn they're grinding is taking longer than usual. They ran out of water and have to go pump some more. They're helping a young mother with her laundry. They're having a conversation with a friend. They don't know what time they'll show up, because they don't know what other things will become necessary - or which person will need them. They don't live by the clock.
They live by relationship.
1 comment:
They are helping by pushing a mission bus out of a foot of mud...haha that was amazing
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