So a few days ago, my phone passed on. And when I say passed on I mean my phone of three, faithful years crossed over the great divide officially. My actual phone was okay, but the charger port inside wouldn't accept a charge any longer; slowly but surely the battery drained and then she was gone. (Why are ships and cars and phones and things always referred to as 'shes'?)
Anyways, at first, I was mildly frustrated. There were several people I had been in mid-conversation with and several that I had felt I needed to get a hold of later...and since I've been so dependent on my cell as of late, I had barely any numbers memorized. I have to be honest, I felt a bit despondent, and the fact that I couldn't contact any of my friends for whatever reason did nothing to elevate my feeling. The next morning I got up (using my actual alarm clock with the ugly beep instead of the ringtone on my phone), went to class all day, and made my way back to my dorm - all without my cherished cell phone.
I remember specifically walking back from Statistics class and thinking, "This is different, I can actually hear myself." I was thinking my thoughts thouroughly, without reservation. The sky was grey and it was drizzly outside. The weather matched my mood, but then my viewpoint switched entirely. Sometimes, I wake up and its overcast and raining out, and right then I decide that today is a gloomy day. It feels lonely to walk outside and something ominous is always coming. The woods look creepy instead of lovely and everyone walks with their hoods up and their faces towards the sidewalks. Other murky days, I climb out of bed and the grey feels soft. Something straight from Seattle and I enjoy my umbrella and feel that a cup of coffee is necessary.
At any rate, my viewpoint of this colorless day shifted thoroughly. To the soft kind. I realized that in this separation from constant contact with others, that my thoughts turned themselves inside out. Instead of grazing through my day - wake up, class, homework, practice, go to bed - I would come to a thought and actually think it through, instead of skimming over it. My thoughts had color and corners. It was a type of solitude I had never really experienced before. It wasn't isolation by any stretch; I could talk to any one person at any given moment. But this was a solitude within myself. I had no reason to check my texts, or wonder if anyone had called, or if there was anywhere I needed to be. The option wasn't available, so I began to disconnect it from my mind.
It struck me as a bit absurd that this was how it always was no less then thirty years ago...and now, our generation is so unknowingly subject to our communications. I hadn't even realized how completely wrapped up I was in that little thing and how, undisclosed to myself, I constantly kept a tiny thought off to the side of my mind to further check my phone.
To be honest, the whole thing truly annoyed me and since I had no one else at my immediate disposal, I turned to the One whom I should have been addressing the entire time. I felt as if my thoughts had been washed clean of their constancy and could wholly come before the Lord without distraction. He brought to my realization how much I credit toward others and how sustained I am by fellowship. Interdependence is necessary, but hardly a reason to not come to Him first. This whole ordeal puts merit to my utter humanness, for which I must daily appeal.
I think I'm going to leave my phone in my dorm tomorrow.
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