I wonder if the world outside could survive if we no longer had cell phones. We’d survive, and we might even be pleasantly surprised at the outcome. I think what we might find is a quality of life that we had no idea was there; like a man who unexpectedly finds a treasure buried in a field. Who knows? Perhaps one might sell all he has to find enough money to buy it.
Sunday night brought in a cold front and a steady rain, the signs that fall is trying to wedge its way into our lives. He’s been knocking for a couple of weeks, but has yet to come in. He knocked hard this night--enough to knock out the power grid on our side of town. ESPN went out followed by the Internet, followed by the lights and anything else that breathes electricity. The world is ending. The religious fanatics were right.
My wife gathered some candles from around the house, the ones that are never lit but are only used for appearance. Form has taken over function and kicked it right out the door. All this was in the same family of thought that caused us to have a room in our house where I grew up that contained the nice furniture; the good stuff. The stuff bought not from the JCPenney catalog, but from a real furniture store, where they even deliver it to your house. This room was so nice that my mother would never allow anyone to sit in there except on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Most of our money was invested in this room, but it was rarely used enough to earn its keep. Compare it to a ten million dollar church building that’s only used on Sunday, and stays pretty much empty Monday through Saturday.
My wife and I sat, the room barely lit with about five candles. The windows were open letting in the sound of a light breeze and the steady rain. On the walls, the candles caused the shadows to dance and sway, putting on a show that is far better than anything on Facebook or recorded on my DVR. To our surprise, my wife and I started talking and when we weren’t talking, we just sat there enjoying the sound of the rain. For an hour we simply just talked. It sounds so simple that you may wonder why I mention it. It was just good, rich, unhurried, undistracted time with my wife. This was an unexpected gift; a pause of time that can be a rare experience in our lives today.
A sudden pop brought it all back. The refrigerator cranked back up, the A/C came on, followed by the TV, and all the lights and appliances.
All the clocks were blinking 1200. For a moment, for about an hour, all of time had stopped. And I sort of liked it. The thing is that when the power came back on, I was sort of disappointed. Something inside of me didn’t want it to come back on. Why couldn’t it have stayed out a little while longer?
I think God gave me and my wife something that we weren’t expecting, some time together. Face to face. No distractions, nothing but silence, which allowed a chance to simply sit and talk. For a moment in time Jesus turned our noisy, busy, distracted virtual lives into the Sea of Galilee, as if to stand up on the bow of the boat and yell “Peace, Be Still!” And there was a dead calm.
And in this field, we found a treasure. It was good. I might be willing to sell everything and buy it.
Sunday night brought in a cold front and a steady rain, the signs that fall is trying to wedge its way into our lives. He’s been knocking for a couple of weeks, but has yet to come in. He knocked hard this night--enough to knock out the power grid on our side of town. ESPN went out followed by the Internet, followed by the lights and anything else that breathes electricity. The world is ending. The religious fanatics were right.
My wife gathered some candles from around the house, the ones that are never lit but are only used for appearance. Form has taken over function and kicked it right out the door. All this was in the same family of thought that caused us to have a room in our house where I grew up that contained the nice furniture; the good stuff. The stuff bought not from the JCPenney catalog, but from a real furniture store, where they even deliver it to your house. This room was so nice that my mother would never allow anyone to sit in there except on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Most of our money was invested in this room, but it was rarely used enough to earn its keep. Compare it to a ten million dollar church building that’s only used on Sunday, and stays pretty much empty Monday through Saturday.
My wife and I sat, the room barely lit with about five candles. The windows were open letting in the sound of a light breeze and the steady rain. On the walls, the candles caused the shadows to dance and sway, putting on a show that is far better than anything on Facebook or recorded on my DVR. To our surprise, my wife and I started talking and when we weren’t talking, we just sat there enjoying the sound of the rain. For an hour we simply just talked. It sounds so simple that you may wonder why I mention it. It was just good, rich, unhurried, undistracted time with my wife. This was an unexpected gift; a pause of time that can be a rare experience in our lives today.
A sudden pop brought it all back. The refrigerator cranked back up, the A/C came on, followed by the TV, and all the lights and appliances.
All the clocks were blinking 1200. For a moment, for about an hour, all of time had stopped. And I sort of liked it. The thing is that when the power came back on, I was sort of disappointed. Something inside of me didn’t want it to come back on. Why couldn’t it have stayed out a little while longer?
I think God gave me and my wife something that we weren’t expecting, some time together. Face to face. No distractions, nothing but silence, which allowed a chance to simply sit and talk. For a moment in time Jesus turned our noisy, busy, distracted virtual lives into the Sea of Galilee, as if to stand up on the bow of the boat and yell “Peace, Be Still!” And there was a dead calm.
And in this field, we found a treasure. It was good. I might be willing to sell everything and buy it.
2 comments:
You described the scene so well that I, too, felt the disappointment you expressed when your electricity kicked back on. We have too much noise in our lives. Funny though, how we don't notice the constant and rising clamor in our ears until we experience a sudden silence. Nothing like experiencing the beauty of simplicity - even vicariously. Thanks for your words.
I love how I read this and totally captured the moment. I too am a fan of the simpleton lifestyle. Great read! all the best
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