Facebook Fast 2018 - #7

Facebook withdrawl - Day #7...

It was one week ago tonight that we were challenged to "fast" from social media for ten days. No one is making us do it. We have the choice to do it, or to not do it.

I chose to participate.

1. I don't know where the chickens are. Kerry and I are in a bit of mourning, hoping that nothing has gotten them.

2. We are enjoying the colors of autumn. It was certainly brisk this morning, and even a bit misty. But, the splendor of these autumn colors always bring a smile to our faces.

3. I read three more chapters of scriptures.

4. I have noticed a remarkable difference in my own demeanor. By withdrawing from FB for a little season, I have noticed that I am not mad or having periods of angst from reading the constant feed of politics, or someone who is mad at their sister, or a myriad of other things that may cross the pages. We certainly are aware of the news of the nation and of the world, and of the terrible calamities so many are facing. We watch all news networks -- when we want to.

5. I had a really meaningful "conversation" with a FB friend who is grieving so deeply right now. I'm not sure how much good I did, but maybe for the moment it was good for him.

6. I also had a delightful conversation with a wrong number. It reminded me of something that happened in 1997. Son Peter was in a terrible head-on collision in September after he graduated. Our family reeled.

I still had young children at home. For the month he was recuperating from multiple surgeries in the hospital, our routine involved:

*Kerry working.

*Me staying at the hospital practically around the clock.

*Church friends helping with the younger children - piano lessons, sports activities, bringing meals in, etc.

After staying by his side through the night, I would return home about 6:00 am, and change the recording on the answering machine to update his condition. This prevented me from having to call people all the time. They could simply call, listen to the daily update, and hang up throughout the day.

I would get the younger's children's breakfast, get them off to school, and lay down myself for a few hours...then, back to the hospital.

For a month.

One morning, as I was listening to messages from those who had left them through the day, this sweet older woman's voice came on that I didn't recognize. She said:

"Child, I don't know if Peter is your husband or your baby or your adult son or your brother, but I want you to know that I am going to hang up and pray for him right now. And, I'm going to tell all of my church ladies to do the same. Your voice is tired, my child. And, we're all going to help pull you through it."

I wept.

I listened to it again, and wept some more.

She and I may never meet on this earth, but someday I'll get to tell her just what she did for me that day.