For three weeks now I’ve been experiencing one of the hazards of being a stay-at-home mom: terrible neighbors. One would think in a country like PNG there would be no chance of having neighbors with a garage band that has zero self-awareness. One would think. Sadly, our neighbors do have a garage band made up of individuals who believe anyone can do anything. Talent is an afterthought, if part of any of their thoughts. Besides self-awareness, they lack a sound muffling garage. Instead it’s just a wall of jungle behind our properties that pummels all that amplified noise right back into my abused ears.

As we plunge into week four of practicing the same four or five songs every afternoon for five hours, I can confidently say the band has gotten worse. They’re so loud I feel them in the floor, and with that kind of volume I can only think about them. Sometime during the 100th attempt of their almost-on-key version of “Under the Boardwalk” (think throbbing, pulsating torture with a howling cat thrown in for good measure), I began to fancy myself an expert. I’ve decided that their performance deteriorates when their self approval inflates. As they “master” playing songs in a simple, straightforward manner, they start to increase the challenge by adding trills and “woahwoahwoahs” where there just shouldn’t be any. Ever. Especially not by them.

So in an effort to make this experience edifying, I’ve been reflecting on how I do this in my own life. Where do I forge ahead thinking I’ve mastered something, when I should be pulling back and taking it note by note? Keeping it simple? For me it’s flexibility. I like to style myself a flexible person. Sure, I’m laid back (as long as the house is swept, dishes are done, kids are asleep, to-do list is complete). Sure, I can do anything at a moment’s notice (as long as the house is swept, dishes are done, kids are asleep, to-do list is complete). Sure, my plan for the day isn’t set in stone (more like set in the bedrock under the stone). Sure, I’m okay with our PNG friends unexpectedly landing for a morning and chatting about I’m not completely sure what (really??? argh).

That’s all rather hard for me to say publicly because flexibility is the one thing every missionary is supposed to be amazing at. The word is overused in any sort of training or orientation program as an absolute requirement. Are you a flexible person? Get ready to be flexible. Flexibility is key. Life will be tough if you aren’t flexible. You won’t make an impact if you’re inflexible. On and on and ON. I heard it so much during my time I began to believe I actually was flexible. Obviously I had to be if I was going to survive (which, incidentally, is not true). As a result, I occasionally go through phases where I believe I’m flexible, and I stop working on the basics of being calm amidst the unplanned; stop intentionally practicing the art of allowing God to economize my days. Sometimes I even add trills thinking I can. Because I’m amazing. And flexible. But I inevitably crash in a mess of discordant notes, and it’s not pretty.

Life most certainly is better on the mission field if you’re a flexible person. I envy those around me that have the gift of hospitality and the ability to truly put all aside for something unplanned. I’m capable of doing it, but it’s an internal battle that takes its toll and makes me acutely aware of my need for God to do the work in me to prioritize His way. Perhaps the awfulness of our neighbor’s band and their tendency to complicate when they should stabilize will help remind me to practice flexibility one note at a time.