15 months.

I’m celebrating 15 months with my faithful companion.  And with a blog post, of course.

It’s moving on towards the end of February, and, in true South Asia-fashion, it’s getting hot.

I can say things like, “in true South Asia-fashion,” because this is the second February I’ve spent in this country.  That’s long enough to experience a full year of seasons in a place. To begin to wrap my head around the unfamiliar rhythms of a April-May summer vacation, the need to eat as many mangoes as possible in May and June while they’re at their peak, and what “monsoon season” means in our part of the country.

I can remember back to this time last year, thinking, Wait: it’s hot already!?  Winter’s still in full-swing in Pennsylvania.  And mostly in full-swing in South Carolina.

But not here.  The sun bears down on my shoulders, and makes my jeans hot to the touch as I walk the mile home from my friends’ flat–and Hindi class–each afternoon at 1:30.  This heat is dry, and the dust coats my toes and catches in my throat, and I make my way across the big road between our apartment complexes, weaving through throngs of midday traffic.

Some days I take the back way home, looping around the park, past our family’s two most-frequented supermarkets, up Wellington St and over through the maze of close Muslim streets surrounding the mosque.  This way is vastly more peaceful and charming than the noisy, dusty main road, but I hate the way people stop and stare at me, like I’m an intruder in their day.

Fifteen months here in South Asia, and I still haven’t learned to shrug off the stares.

Fifteen months here and I still feel like an outsider a lot of the time.

Learning my way around town helps.  Finding the supermarkets and produce stands and coffee shops I like helps.  And now, beginning to learn the national language helps.

But I just want to be the confidant one.  To be the one giving advice and recipes and directions.

I want to blend in.

That’s what’s still hard, here at 15 months.

The good part that’s on my mind tonight is this:  All of this time, all of these months here, mean something.

The older I get, the more I’m realizing that the things that matter in life take time.

Nothing really comes fast, does it?

Relationships.  The raising of children.  Sanctification.  The healing of wounds.  Learning a language.  Turning a place into a home.  Growing wise.  Growing humble.  Being comfortable in my own skin.

A pastor-friend said to David and me, around this time last year: “I know, you hate this.  But there is just no way to bypass the culture-shock process.  The only thing that helps is time.  And time does help.”

So that’s what I’m learning at 15 months in: Time does help.

Sometimes I feel like an outsider–but not as often as I did a year ago.  I take a walk and notice the green leaves and the bright, year-long sunshine–not just the dust and the heat.  I’m discovering new hobbies.  I’ve made real friends, friends I’m growing a history with.  I’m learning that it’s good for me to have to ask for advice and recipes and directions.

I’m finding that living in this place has challenged prejudices and changed values.  It’s made my world wider.

And I’m discovering that I’ve only just scratched the surface of all there is to learn and enjoy here.

Yes, time does help.

But it can’t just be time.  Time alone can make a person grow bitter and closed-up-tight inside.  But time and an open heart, that can change a person, no matter where you live.   It can change a whole life.

Tonight, I’m asking God to help me keep company with time.  To be a person at peace with the months that roll by, even if they don’t bring earth-shattering victories or quantifiable ministry successes.  To give people space to change when God wants them to.  To be much-learning, much-hoping and much-rejoicing every day.  To know that God won’t stop working on me.

To remember that, in the words of my college professor, “God isn’t in a hurry.  He grows things.”

I’m grateful for 15 months here.  I don’t take them for granted.