Since moving back to North Carolina, I find that I spend more hours hunkered down in my house than I like to readily admit.
Maybe it’s the incessant rain or maybe it’s the smallness of life here that makes me shrink into my cozy space. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s both.
I’m in a rhythm of life that is quite predictable.
And the predictable is not a bad thing. It’s just never been my thing.
My laptop whirls to life early every morning and I drown myself in a pot of coffee and I tap out my almost daily words for you before the first kid ever slips down the stairs. I say whatever is foremost in my mind or deepest in my heart and then I log off until nap time.
Or at least I try to. There’s always my phone.
This morning, I woke to pouring rain, predictable in its own right. I brushed my teeth over the sink while Thad asked my opinion on 3 matters of the church and I just stared at him with toothpaste dripping from my chin.
I mean, really? It was 6am.
I stirred the creamer into my coffee until it was the color of hazelnuts and then opened my window to the world, all before 6:30. I sent out a quick message to the person I thought of as soon as I opened my eyes. I couldn’t get her off my mind, so I pressed the easy button: I messaged her on Facebook.
Thirteen years ago, she would have gotten a handwritten note on a pretty notecard in her mailbox. Or, she might would have gotten Starbucks and a note on her desk.
But today, from the cocoon of my home, she got a little message in her already flooded Facebook account. It cost me nothing but 1 minute and a word that I would pray for her as I wiped hineys and spread PB&J.
It bothered me, even as I was writing to her, but I kept tapping out words and I clicked the send button before I could change my mind. Or before the Lord pricked my heart to do the better thing.
I’ll be the first to admit to the fact that Facebook has become one of my dearest friends. We have a love/hate relationship, with more loving than hating. I love how quick and easy it is to reach out and speak a word of encouragement. I also love how easy it is to receive a word of encouragement. The internet and all its glorious outlets for social networking has been my lifeline this past year.
And as badly as I hate to write this next sentence, I must: I think my lifeline has actually become my crutch.
I’ve replaced writing in private with writing all out in the open and somewhere in the middle of all of this, I’ve lost the art of intimacy.
I’ve lost the intentionality of buying a card, penning thoughts in my head, and then transferring them onto paper. I’ve lost the blessing of sending a word of encouragement through the mail, with no strings attached, no timed expectation of a Facebook response.
And really, I’ve robbed myself of unknown blessings by not living out my full giftedness.
So although I’ll keep writing here and sending out instant messages and texting you at the crack of dawn, I will work to be more intentional to listen to that still, small voice that whispers, Write it on paper.
Because I don’t want a crutch… I want a life worth giving away.