We were driving home from visiting family when I realized my phone was not in my purse. It was exactly where I had left it – on a coffee table next to my adorable grand babies who were adorned in full princess attire and whom I was trying to video. “Should we go back?” my husband asked. No, no, no, of course not …. surely I can survive without my phone for a single evening. I would retrieve it the very next morning when I was scheduled to babysit.
Well, that evening you would think I was a lifelong smoker on her first day of cold turkey withdrawal. Apparently my phone and I had cemented quite the relationship. It was my source of news and connection; it was the keeper of my calendar, my Bible app, my photos and videos, my NY Times, my music, my crosswords, my banking, my weather and traffic report, my work out tracker, my current novel, my alarm clock. Pretty much, my everything. My lazy ipad tried in vain to take its place, but it came up short.
How would I wake up at 6? What if I had an accident while driving to the kids’ house the next morning? Who would remind me to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer? Where was Siri to check when the Bears were playing or to tell me what on earth tamari was in the recipe that I actually had to find in a BOOK of all places. I called “Hey Siri” to my ipad which continued its nap without so much as a ping.
I was adrift without my Precious. I had turned into Gollum obsessing over the Ring which he both loved and hated at the same time. That night, I had to reacquaint myself with print, the kind on pages, as I eyed my husband happily scrolling next to me, fully connected, fully informed, fully entertained.
As I drove on the highway the following morning (ever so carefully as it would be AWFUL to be stranded on the roadside without my Precious) I contemplated my relationship with my phone. But instead of planning a 12 step recovery plan, I conceded that wifi is a necessary part of daily life. So what if I viewed my phone as a metaphor for my relationship with God? What if I held onto my device in the same manner as I hold the hand of the Almighty. What if I sought God’s wisdom, help and counsel, as I do that of Siri who is prone to tell me about Tamara Tunie when I ask about tamari.
As I write this, naturally my phone is close by. But so is my precious Lord who never will leave me or forsake me, who was there at my first breath and will be there at my last, who brought my grand babies into this world and has clad us all in prince and princess garb, who says, Daughter, tamari is like soy sauce and your life is in my hands. Hold your phone as my hand of grace which never gets lost and never lets go.