Interludes: Interruptibility

It's been awhile since I've posted a blog (and if you're still keeping up with these, thanks for the support!). Part of the reason for my absence was due to my rather spontaneous decision to move to Mississippi for the time being. Without going too deeply into the details, I'm now living with and working for my cousin Alex, and generally just tagging along in her way of life. So far one thing in particular has stuck out to me about the way my cousin lives: her interruptibility.

Let me give you an example:

My cousin has one day off from work each week (aside from Sunday). With her day off she likes to take it slow. She'll begin with a lingering morning with Jesus, giving herself ample time to soak in His presence. After she's done, she might spend a bit of time working out the work schedule for an upcoming week that gets posted that night. In the afternoon, she has a standing golf lesson with a local high school student (she's slowly but surely getting better at it, I'm told). Aside from that, the rest of the day she leaves open do whatever she may want—a little bit of cleaning, reading a good book, taking a nap—before church in the evening.

This past Wednesday, on her day off, she was just beginning her quiet time when she got a call from the store. A local woman that she knew had shown up at the store, barely clothed, saying that someone had set her trailer on fire and tried to kill her. Alex left immediately to go talk to this woman. During the conversation, the woman agreed to go to a faith-based restoration home that Alex knew of to get out of drug addiction.

She brought the woman back to the house to give her a shower and food, and then drove the woman (and her two dogs) nearly an hour away to Mobile, Alabama to get her checked into the program. By this time it was into the afternoon, shortly before the golf lesson that Alex had already called to cancel.

On her way back home, she swung by the home of one of her employees, who had texted her early that morning in distress. When Alex got there, the “15 minute stop” quickly turned into an hour as she sat and listened to the employee’s sister—recently released from prison and attempting to get off dope—share her struggles and guilt and desire to be rid of addiction. She left the home with promises from both the employee and her sister to come to church that evening, which were left unfulfilled when the time came.

It was now late afternoon. With the rest of her day off, Alex took the woman's dogs to the vet (the youngest one badly needed a deworming treatment), visited her elderly neighbor (who had recently returned home after falling and breaking her hip), and crammed in some time to work on the work schedule before church. By the time we got back from church, Alex was exhausted and ready to get some much-needed sleep before heading to work early the next morning.

I was with Alex through almost all of those experiences that day, and though I saw a lot of things from her, it was what I didn't see that stuck with me the most: Alex didn't complain once. She never expressed any impatience with the way people were taking up her time or frustration over dealing with people who talked a lot more than they listened. All day long, I saw compassion and intentionality from my cousin, and even when the demands of the day began to wear on her she kept an attitude of gratefulness to God.

As Alex poured compassion on these women, I wrestled with my impatience. I listened and observed, all the while being painfully aware of the passage of time and wondering just how long these interruptions would take—even though we had nowhere else to be.

I think that Jesus' disciples probably reacted the same way to his unhurried, interruptible lifestyle at times. Perhaps they grew tired of the people making demands of Him, of themselves. Perhaps they grew impatient with the individual encounters and longed for "the big stuff." How often did they stop to consider that big things were happening in those individual interactions?

Jesus has called us to be followers of Him in every way, including in living a life that is interruptible. I'm not saying that we should put schedules by the wayside or remove all boundaries from our time and energies that we give to others. Structure, consistency, routine—these are good and necessary things that create stability, allowing us to steward our resources (including time) well. It's just that sometimes, stewarding our time well means allowing things that weren't on the schedule take priority in our lives. Like, for example, driving an acquaintance to rehab or sitting with someone in turmoil.

The woman lasted less than 24 hours at the rehabilitation home and was back the next day. Yet, when I asked her about it, Alex wasn't upset with the woman and didn't regret giving up her day for her. She said that time out of her day spent helping people in whatever way she can, even if it doesn't stick, is never time wasted. I think we could probably all benefit from more of this perspective in our own lives.