For almost two weeks, I’ve been without internet service on my computer in three different locations–the mountains of North Carolina, the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and a farm in Northern Virginia. Disappointment was my first response in each place. But each segment of my tech deprivation had its gifts. In the mountains I read two books and walked the hills. At the beach I attended an Interplay workshop, swam in the ocean and had great meals with old friends. On the farm, I walked through a field of sunflowers, ate vast quantities of tomatoes, and participated in the rescue of a an injured long-eared owl.
I love my tech toys. At this point It’s hard to imagine life without them. But I do know that sometimes I sleepwalk through hours of life on my keyboard. I was more alert to my surroundings than usual with an idle computer. The tomatoes and the walks and the swim would have happened anyway, but I probably wouldn’t have read as much or noticed the sunflowers. I might have just stayed in my chair and said “No, thanks.” when someone said, “There’s a wounded owl in the creek.” Bouncing through cornfields and a creek in an old Ford F-150 to sit with this beautiful creature while we waited for the arrival of animal rescue was the memorable moment of the week.
“So then let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be alert.” (1Thessalonians 5:6 NIV). I don’t know about “others,” but I like the aliveness and alertness I have felt in the past couple of weeks. I don’t want to miss what I’m supposed to be or to do. I don’t want to miss my life.