For Wilshire Baptist Church
I seldom engage in conversations on Twitter, but occasionally a question or comment gets my response. This week, a young woman named Kelsey who describes herself as a “proud Jewish mama and indie author” asked, “What did people do in elevators before phones? Just stare awkwardly at the ceiling?” My answer to her: “We stared at the door.”
I could have easily added: We watched the numbers on the floor indicator. If it was first thing in the morning, we looked down at our shoes to make sure they matched (mine didn’t once), checked our zippers, straightened our shirts and jackets. If it was the end of the day, we flipped our car keys in our hand and stared at the numbers again, trying to make them move faster. Of course, what we did depended on where the elevator was taking us. If it was in a hospital, perhaps we closed our eyes and prayed. Or going up to an interview? The same thing. We’d use our peripheral vision to glance at other people around us, and we’d watch as they stepped off on a different floor and wonder where they worked and what their life was like.
The same question could be asked about almost everywhere we go and everything we do. Before people had phones, what did they do: in line at the grocery store; in traffic at a red light; in a church pew at 10:50 on a Sunday morning; at a restaurant table waiting for the server; stopping at a turn on a hiking trail to catch our breath; waiting for our number or name to be called at a city office or doctor’s waiting room; in the central jury room at the courthouse?
What did we do? We made mental to-do and grocery lists. We thought about things we were looking forward to and things we were dreading. We rehearsed our excuses for being late. We prayed. We read a book or a magazine. Depending on where we were, we marveled at the wonders of the world or groaned at the total chaos around us. We exercised our minds and our imaginations with the input we had from the people and places around us. We observed the differences and diversity of the people around us and, if we were open to it, their similarities.
I’m not anti-cell phone. In fact, I’m all in when it comes to their utility and many benefits. I don’t go anywhere without one. But, I miss the innocence and freedom of being empty handed. I miss not wondering or caring about who might be wanting to contact me. I miss staring at the ceiling – or just blankly into space – and finding my thoughts going naturally to something important and that has meaning.
It’s ironic that it took a cell phone prompt from a stranger named Kelsey to put my phone away for a while and remember what we can still do. We can still have those moments of observation and wonder, prayer and contemplation, peace and quiet. We can still search our souls and connect with our creator. It’s as easy as leaving our phone in our pocket or purse and trusting that our God-created minds will be OK while cradled in the quiet of just being.