2 February

19 Days In Still homeless yet grateful for this time of learning

A Fair Warning: If constructive criticism makes you uncomfortable, this post might feel a little brutal. A year ago, I would’ve pushed back on much of what I’m about to say. And no, this won’t apply to everyone. But it does apply to many, because I not only participated in these behaviors myself, I watched countless others do the same.

Nineteen days in, and we still aren’t in our new home. We don’t yet have the required bank account to insure our wonderful new truck, which is fully paid for and sitting at the dealership, ready to be driven away. A week ago, these delays had us spinning. Our priorities were a mess, and we were letting minor hiccups drive us absolutely crazy.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff, and it is all small stuff.” I’ve heard that saying my entire 55+ years. I think I finally understand it now. I’m not sure I ever could have without leaving the U.S. In fact, I’m starting to believe we have it backwards there.

We let everyday inconveniences get under our skin. We get angry at the car that cuts us off, without having any idea why they’re in a hurry. Maybe there’s a valid reason. Maybe not. But why let it ruin your moment? Here, if someone wants to pass on a two-lane road, you simply move to the shoulder and let them go. The roads are designed for it, yes, but more than that, the mindset is. It isn’t a race. It’s respect. People make their own choices about speed, and somehow it all sorts itself out without the anger.

Or take food. Frustrated because the drive-thru got your order wrong? Here’s a thought: get out of your car, sit down, and enjoy your meal. There are very few drive-thrus here, and the ones that exist are almost exclusively American chains like McDonald’s or KFC. Eating isn’t treated as a task to check off while multitasking. It’s relaxed. Social. An event of its own.

And trust me, I get it. I ate at my desk for years to “save time.” But in doing so, we disrespect not only ourselves, but the animals, plants, farmers, and chefs who made that meal possible. We even disrespect time itself by refusing to be present in it.

Then there’s the checkout line. The one that’s “too long.” The teller who dares to make conversation while you mutter under your breath for them to hurry up. Instead of irritation, what if there were gratitude? Gratitude that the teller sees customers as humans, not transactions. Often, the people we’re most impatient with, especially elderly customers, may be experiencing their only real human interaction of the day.

In the U.S., many of us complain about declining customer service. Yet when we witness genuine, attentive service being given to someone else, we resent it if it costs us a few extra minutes. We’ve made customer service about speed instead of connection. About efficiency instead of seeing one another.

And maybe this is the biggest realization of all: every precious moment of our days deserves to be honored as the gift it is. Yes, even the moments spent working. If you truly can’t find joy in what you’re doing, then it may be time to find something you can find joy in.

Here in South Africa, the server at a restaurant works with joy. The man pumping my gas smiles as he does his job. The market teller laughs her way through the day. Life feels centered on connection, on letting the moment you’re in fully surround you.

Make no mistake, I’m relearning all of this myself. I’m unlearning the idea that time is something to conquer or cram full. It isn’t. Time is something to respect. To participate in. To savor, not for how much we fit into it, but for how fully we show up for each moment it brings.