Some time ago, I rolled up to a stop light on a late afternoon bike ride and and had the following encounter with a fellow cyclist.
Hello! she said. Her hands rested on the handlebars and she rested her weight on the bike's top tube--and stared straight ahead.
Hello, I replied, pleasantly surprised that she had given me more than a nod (but a little perplexed that she couldn't be bothered to look my way).
How are you?! She asked, with what seemed to be unnecessary enthusiasm and concern.
Oh, um, I'm fine. Beautiful day. How are you?
Hold on a second, she said. Some guy is trying to talk to me. I'll call you back in a second...
That's when I finally noticed the tiny gadget hooked over her ear. My face flushed as I put two and two together and realized that there was a good reason it sounded like she was talking to an old friend on the phone--she probably was. Even standing there at the intersection of Franklin and Alameda while enjoying a sunny afternoon on the bike, she was able to stay in touch.
Of course, her ability to do so is no longer a surprise to any of us. A friend updates his Facebook status from the ski lift. The woman in the airport pulls out her Blackberry and sends a quick email without ever sitting down. Members of congress update their constituents via their Twitter feeds even while listening (or pretending to listen) to the President speak. We are people who are in constant communication with one another.
A few weeks ago, a friend relayed a conversation she'd recently had with her eight-year-old daughter. I just love to pray, the little girl gushed. I only dream sometimes at night. Usually I just pray. And lots of times during the day, I don't even say 'Amen' because I don't want it to be over. I just want to keep talking to God all the time.
Here is a little girl who has something that many of us desire--she is in constant communication with her Creator. She, as much as anybody I know, seems to follow Paul's command: Pray without ceasing. Her life is a continuous conversation with her heavenly Father.
I wonder what will happen to that little girl--to her life of prayer--in a few years. What will happen she gets a Facebook account and a iPhone and a Twitter feed with her friends. Will she be able to stay in constant communication with her God--even while she's in constant communication with so many others?
Most of us would like to have it both ways. But I'm beginning to wonder if we can (or if that's wanting to have your cake and eat it too). Does the constant buzz of communication from cell phones and blog feeds and twitter updates leave us with enough space--enough silence--for us to speak to (and hear from!) our heavenly Father?
I'm not one to push giving up something for Lent (I often joke with people that I'm going to try to give up sin). But maybe a helpful experiment for some of us during this time of year would be to sign off for a few weeks--to let our communication with each other slide so that we can get back in touch with our God.
Edit (3.9.09): Apparently the Pope reads my blog :)
