Further Reflection

I couldn't shake the sadness. I couldn't understand it either. Good grief, it's just a machine. There had to be more. So I took a deep breath, and asked to be let further into whatever it was that troubling me.

Now, I don't know about you, but there are times when it's just easier to be in denial; to blythfully wander in the fog and never fully get to the heart of the troubling. It's like walking past a door. There might be a twinge of interest, but with everything else that needs to be done, it's just as easy to truly "leave well enough alone."

This, however, was not one of those times. This gray fog weighed too much to truly ignore. It needed to be explored.

So I was sitting at devotions at T-Net, trying to look like I was interested, but my mind was so far away. Then the breath. Then the truth.

There was a time when I was so driven. I had such a sense of self-importance. I was caught up in looking technologically savvy. I surrounded myself with gizmos and gadgets. I lived and died by my Daytimer. I couldn't function without my PalmPilot near at hand. I carried two cell phones and two pagers. And always present wherever I went was my laptop. If I showed up at a meeting without it, people expressed surprise and wonderment at what might be "wrong" with me.

When life changed, I lost all the busy entrapments. I wasn't "important" any more. I didn't have a "schedule" to keep. I no longer needed to hide behind my technology. My PalmPilot was relegated to a portable Scrabble game. I don't know where my Daytimer even is anymore. I haven't had a cell phone for two years. The pagers are gone.

The last thing left was my computer. And now it's gone. And with it the last real piece of that identity, of that reminder of my life. Even dead, I sensed that I was clinging to it. "Let it go. Can you let it go?" That is what I heard during devotions this morning.

Yes. If my computer is replaced (which I don't imagine will happen) it will be a true gift, but I don't need it in my life anymore. And with that realization, with that admition, came a lighter feeling. I'm still sad for all the things I've lost, but I don't feel weighted down with grief. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay.

So, now I need to pack. There wasn't any work today so I get to go spend time with that talented and beautiful granddaughter of mine. And with the grayness gone, I feel much more able to enjoy her--to enjoy today.