Communication

Yesterday when I woke up, my cell phone, which had been charging all night, said, "Low Battery" and then shut off.  Dead.  Completely dead.  (Not just "mostly dead", as a famous movie that I don't particularly like but have still watched umpteen-million times says.)

Cell phone dead and no land line.  (Because who has a land line anymore?)

Cell phone dead and no land line and no internet access in my apartment.  (Borders is my favorite hot-spot.)

What does one do in our society when all of these pieces of technology are kaputz?  Well, obviously I immediately went to purchase a new phone.  But....the SIM card and the battery and all of that were not transferable, so....have to email friends to tell them to give me their phone numbers, because I don't know them by heart.  I mean, my sister is "down down down send".  Was.  Right now she is the top of the list! 

But....I don't have internet, remember?

So I find a friend who lets me use her computer to send such emails and fb messages.

All of that to say this:  In our society of high tech gadgets, we have made the world "smaller".  My pastor just this week mentioned that in his sermon.  Our world has gotten smaller because the other side of the world is not the dark side of the moon -- we can see images and read news and hear what is going on in far off places like Kenya and Bangladesh and Australia.

But which of my neighbors knew that I had no means of communication for a harrowing two hours?  Which of the eight apartment neighbors and the near-by home owners on my street came to my rescue?  Is it their fault? No -- they didn't know.

And that is my point. In our small world, we are able to facebook with friends in Cayman and Tennessee and Virginia, and we seek those relationships and we build those virtual relationships, and we neglect the flesh and blood relationships right next door.  I am as guilty as the next guy.  My neighbors had no idea of my anxiety yesterday because in the four years that I have lived in that apartment I have not once said more than, "Hi."  Literally.  Only one of these people knows my name, and he is a sweet old guy that would help me if I asked. 

A hundred years ago, people came to your rescue because it served them.  They might not have liked you all that much, but if your house was burning, they'd help fight it, if only to prevent their own house from going up in smoke.  But now we have our circles of friends, those people we turn to when we need prayer or support or just someone to hang out with.  Not the people next door usually; we block them out with privacy fences and ADT signs.  We sit in centrally air-conditioned houses at our computers to build relationships with people around the world.

But when I was without communication for two hours, and full of anxiety (OK, wrong and silly as that may be, you give up every gadget you own and tell me how you deal), how was I supposed to ask for a cup of sugar?