Sometimes, a long way away

I've been having major problems with my computer for almost a week.

I lost Firefox, my highway to the Internet.

I had to call AOL three times to get back my email. Which allowed me to get to this blog.

I couldn't read any of my documents--stuff I've written and stored, a thousand documents at least, tens of thousands of pages.

What is amazing is how anxious and panicked I've been about all that.

And here's the truth: sometimes, a long way away from here, either in the past or future, none of that matters much at all.

*If I didn't answer email, people would eventually start calling me on the phone, which is one step closer to personal.

*If I couldn't get on the Internet, I could go buy a New York Times and know what's going on.

*If I couldn't get on this blog, I would miss it and, hopefully, others would as well. But nobody would die. (That's Bern's ultimate reaction to anything upsetting: "did anyone die?" she'll ask. And since nobody did...what's the upset about? It'll be alright...eventually.)

*If I couldn't read any of my documents ever again, well, I could write new ones over time.

I rail about people who are wedded to their smart phones. And yet, here I was, fretting extensively about my computer problems. I can't carry it around with me in my hand, but I am more wedded to it than I imagined.

So, my friend John came today and everything is back in order. But I've decided I spend too much time with my computer. I'm going to cut back. Check e-mails ever day or so rather than four times a day. Buy the New York Times and get my news in print. Not worry if I don't blog for a day or so. Compose sermons from scratch instead of reading old ones in my documents for ideas.

Sometimes, a long way away from my computer seems to be a good thing. A good thing indeed.