I typed the title in error.
And I hit publish, before the post was done.
But that’s what it is– the eMatrix.
A maze that I’m still untangling.
And my sister-in-law asked me to write this post…
About iPhones-returned and trying to live out an example for these little ones with eyes always watching.
And sometimes I catch a glimpse of real-life-outside-of-it-all.
Like today when my friend Sarah called me. And we talked about real life, between real mamas, with real kiddos, and real husbands.
I met her online, but today something crossed over into the realm of– tangible.
I guess I’m on a hunt for real.
Wanting the calories of sugar over the empty facade of Splenda.
Even if it means more minutes of exercise.
I want to count the cost.
Trying to sort it all through.
I returned the iPhone my husband bought me.
A kind gift for a woman who loves connecting.
But the reality is…
I so often sit at a table or on a swim-team-practice-bench with other women who have the potential for real life connections, exchanging a peck. peck. pecking away at a screen and a tablet full of angry birds and facebook updates and iPhone messages and there’s even something to the point of tossing Siri and stopping to ask the person next to me for directions…
That’s what I wonder.
Is there something about the inconvenience that could bind us?
And so I returned my iphone.
Because I’ve yet to see 99.5% live i-phone-lives in a way that i feel comfortable with.
Maybe it’s just me?
But consider it a lack of pride.
I don’t have confidence that I would-could-might-maybe live it differently.
I don’t have confidence that I can resist the impulse of the here & now & immediate.
And so for now–
I’m counting that cost at least.
All the while realizing the irony of counting-it-online.
Just still trying to protect a few spaces of sanctuary from the continuous streaming.
To let there be a few windows of still and silence that maybe we can fill with–
And so I might be asking you for directions.
And it might just be for conversation sake.
But at least we will connect.
Because there’s something about that moment of real conversation…
When my need is real.
And I’m asking for help.
And there is a silent gap.
Can fill the gap.
And sometimes it’s even good for me to see the gap unfilled.
To be at peace with still and silence.
Clearly still wrestling with all this.