What we miss when we aren't present...
If you are looking at a phone, are you aware of what you are missing?
I have been thinking a lot about all the human moments that are missed when we are looking at our phones and disconnecting from those around us. I try hard to be more intentional with my own technology use but even as an adult, it can be hard not to fill up all those moments in between with looking at my iPhone.
I had a moment recently which reminded me why it is so important to just put the phone away.
Last weekend, my daughter asked me to attend a university band concert as part of a high school assignment she needed to complete for honors band. She was required to attend a concert that had woodwinds and then write an essay to receive credit and asked me to go with her. Desperately realizing how soon she will be leaving for college, I accepted. Typically, you will find me half asleep on the couch at 7pm on a Friday night, but this night I vowed to be present.
I gathered my energy as we drove to Newport, a cute coastal community not far from us. It was a dry and warm spring night and once I left the house, I felt more awake than I usually do at the end of a long week.
As we settled into our seats, I made a challenge to myself to put my phone away and not take it out at all during the concert. After all, there would most likely not be any emergency that would need my attention during the hour-long concert. Especially since my daughter was sitting next to me and my son and husband were hanging out at home. It was nice to be doing something a little different from my normal routine of making dinner and then settling in on the couch to “watch” a movie that I generally fall asleep through.
The band conductor was engaging and began each song with a story to set the mood. I found myself smiling and thinking that if more people took advantage of these free concerts, our country would not be so divided. The concert band played beautifully and was very entertaining.
It was during the second song that something caught my attention. I noticed an elderly woman using a cane entering the theater with who I could only assume were her adult children. It was obvious that her mobility was slow as she ambled across the theater to a seat. She made her way to the handicapped available seating for four. I watched as her adult daughter (I assumed) made sure that she had a seat with 3 others in their group and then scrambled to the row ahead moving to sit in front of her mother. The next moment is what caught my breath.
As this quiet scene was unfolding, the second song of the concert band was coming to an end. I then watched as the adult daughter turned slightly and held her hand out to her mother who reached out too. They looked at each other while they grasped hands for a second, let go and returned their attention to the concert. A small gesture of love captured in the quick second it took. And I sat there watching it all.
The next song that played was Amazing Grace. The moment I just witnessed was not lost on me and tears began to build. My daughter noticed and rested her head on my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. She assumed the tears were for the song. They were for the song but also for the moment of love I had witnessed a moment earlier. I could only hope to live to an elderly age and be able to share a tender moment like that with her.
The moment I observed was quick. The rendition of Amazing Grace was beautiful. I can’t help but think that if I was looking at my phone and paying more attention to a text or email that I would have missed it all. I know for a fact that if I was, I sadly would have…