The American Cell Phone

I am embarrassed.  My day was ruined by my cell phone.  What on earth?

This morning I ran a 5K.  I even spent time in the Greek studying Peter and his imprisonment and release, thanks to a fabulous angel that helped him escape.

Yet, at 11:30 a.m. I stood drop-jawed at US Cellular when I found out that my cell phone was D.O.A. and not returning to this life.  The rest of my day was spent in a daze.  I even began to cry as I realized that all of my contacts were lost.

Seriously, what on earth?

When did I get so reliant on my cell phone?  When did I get lonely without it?  Is this an American trend?

As I sat at Olive Garden waiting for my mom in-law and daughter for an hour, thanks to no cell phone to let them know I was there….I thought – long and hard.  I thought about once was and what now is.

Each ding symbolizes a task.  Each tone symbolizes a need.  I am needed and should perform instantly.  Really?  It is such a reminder of a caring for a newborn.  Sounds equal work, work equals sleep deprivation, sleep deprivation means you are a good mom.  Really?

I am not always the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am sharp enough to realize that being inconsolable over a cell phone is simply wrong.  Has our culture become so obsessed with feelings of importance that we’ve forgotten what it feels like to wait?

Do you remember what it felt like as a kid to wait on your allowance?  Or to wait on the big game on Saturday?

Today, I forgot.  I am embarrassed to say that today I called my very best friend, Brian, my hubby and cried like a two-year-old that I lost my contacts and that my phone was D.O.A. and contained even my dad’s contact, whom has been gone for over five years.

No wonder other countries complain about us.  We are not always thinking clearly.  If you are one of the few of us that thinks clearly – congratulations – please teach us.

Tonight, like many things in my life, I am putting my cell phone on the proverbial alter to be sacrificed.  I was important before the dings.  I was important before the tones.  I was important because I was an original.

So, this original, will be going to bed a happy camper.  Happy because happiness comes from people not things and happy feelings come from knowing that God is in control and we are not.  My phone is D.O.A. and I am using a flip phone, but I am happy and content.  I do not need a phone to direct the course of my days.  I need a God who says it is okay to put the darn thing on silent.

White Horse Myth

This morning I was listening to Dr. Brené Brown from the University of Houston speak on “shame and vulnerability.”  In her talk she made a remark that struck me at the core.  She said that a man at one of her book signings stated that ladies would rather see their men die on the white horse than for their men to truly reveal their shame.  I have no doubt that men believe this.

What a fabulous psychology to keep men and women from living fully alive together in harmony!

Men, real women do not believe this.  For those of us who adore our spouse and want to share our lives and hearts with them, well, it goes like this…We desperately want to be in the vault with you.  Our greatest, most fulfilling moments in the relationship come at points of sincere vulnerability.  Whether it be a moment of intense failure or sadness, a moment of riding to great heights or even just a moment of impulse – we want to be there.  We want to feel the emotions, hear the sounds, know the intent – we want the whole experience, not the modified version from atop the horse.

Women who do not know themselves well or have not come to a place of wholeness might desire an outreached arm pulling them from the mud pit, but that desire should be fleeting – it isn’t a relationship builder.  Jesus is the perpetual white knight that pulls society and His children from the pit daily, not a man.

Real men, you beautiful creatures that work hard for your family and spoil your children with your presence – YOU are enough.  I can assure you that the white horse is a myth.  No man looks hot straddling a white horse. Seriously.

My husband has been to some incredible mountaintops of achievement.  He is the type of man that could assume a lofty position, but let me be clear – when his hazel eyes see into my soul and connects to my most vulnerable of ideas and emotions and declares, “me, too” there is no white horse moment that could

 trump such an experience.  His reality is captivating.

I do not want to gaze upon my man on a white horse.  I desire to meet him in the vault every evening, just the two of us.