Who needs sleep, anyway?

Bang Bang Bang

Half-awake, I realize that the pounding I'm hearing is not just part of some strange dream, but an insistent knocking at my door.  Groggily, I try to figure out what time it is.  After midnight.  What the heck?

Then my phone starts ringing.  I see the caller is H., a refugee in the apartment complex here.  I had spent most of that morning helping him work out an issue he was having with his lease.  I happen to know that H. sometimes overreacts to things, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had some question about his lease or wanted to tell me some way he thought the office was treating him unfairly.

The battle begins in me: How horrible would it be to pretend I didn't wake up to the knocking?  What could he possibly need in the middle of the night that couldn't be resolved in the morning?

On the other hand, I came here to show the love of Jesus to people. That love doesn't leave a lot of room for hiding from people because I don't want to get out of bed.

But—the sleepy, looking-for-justification-to-ignore-him part of my brain says—H. is not only a guy, but a Muslim guy.  I'm a single woman. Maybe it would be improper to go downstairs.  Maybe I shouldn't.  

...I know I should get up and see what he needs, or at least answer the phone.

But maybe this is a time when I should "teach" American  customs by ignoring unreasonable requests.  Like ones after midnight.  

While this is going on in my head, the call rolls to voicemail.  Maybe my stalling had worked, and he'd go away?

Then the texts begin:

Bzzz  Mary r u slept I think today I give wrong key
Bzzz  R u wake
Bzzz  I'm sorry text u now but I can not open my apt
Bzzz  I give u wrong key
Bzzz  R u wake

Bah.  Is this really my problem?

The phone rings again.  The door banging resumes, this time with the doorbell ringing intermittently.

In the end, I don't know whether it was a genuine desire to help him or simply the knowledge that he wouldn't go away that motivated me, but I went.*

That morning, he had given me a key to return to the office, but he had accidentally kept that key and given me his only apartment key instead.  Of course, my sleep-dazed brain couldn't remember where I had put the key.  And, of course, H. is a talker, and continued to stand on my porch apologizing to and making small-talk with me for a full fifteen minutes after I had found and delivered it.  (I need to work on more obvious cues for "it's-the-middle-of-the-night-so-please-go-away"...he really doesn't pick up on the subtle American ones.)

...Life here doesn't follow a normal schedule, at least for me.

That morning, before the key-in-the-night incident, was my first time helping someone with a transaction with our leasing office.  My main purpose, in these cases, is simply to be there as a native-English-speaker presence to make sure everything is clear and fair.  It's really not hard.

When H. asked me to help that morning, though, I ashamed to say that my initial gut reaction was to say "no."  I thought of all the reasons I wouldn't be good at it, and the ways I could mess things up if I handled it badly.  Plus, it could take a long time and with the move and everything I'm behind on work hours.  But, why, then, did I come here?

I admit, I have still not established a sustainable rhythm for working full-time plus English classes plus ministry meetings plus trying to build relationships (refugee and peer alike) plus randomly helping with lease questions or trips to the Department of Social Services (picture the DMV, only worse).  Not with eating and sleeping and keeping my house reasonably clean in there, too.

I am not someone who thrives on incessant busyness.  I need at least a little quiet space in my day, or I go crazy.  Right now, I'm sacrificing sleep to get that, but I'm feeling that catch up with me, too (midnight visitors not helping).

It's going to take me a while to figure this out.  There are a lot of needs surrounding me.  I know I will not be able to meet them all, even if I want to.  There will be times I will (and should) say no.  However, I don't want fear or self-interest to dictate which times those are, but discernment of where God wants me to invest my time.  ...I wish that were more magically obvious sometimes.

*Note to all the mom-type-people reading: I would not open my home at midnight to just any random person (without really good reason).  H.'s sister is my friend, and by extension H. considers me part of his family.  He is extremely protective of me, as his "sister-friend."  I was in no danger.  Just for the record.