it was just another night with a sunset

and a moonrise not so far behind...

...and I was driving home last Saturday from Nashville. At this point in my week, I'd driven some twenty-two hours. I do not say that as a complaint. I rather enjoy driving. I happily commute thirty miles to work each day, and 150 to seminary at least once per week. (I wanted to say once a week, but that seemed redneck?) I intentionally planned a roadtrip with my children for spring break last week. I like driving.

It is, for me, a sort of mini sabbatical from things. I put my iPhone on random and crank up the volume. I reflect on my day. I do my deep thinking. I make plans. I daydream. I sing loudly off key.

It was not until this Saturday that I realized how key my background music was to this whole process. On this particular Saturday, not long after I used my iPhone to find a Chinese buffet, (Yes, there's an app for that... you're SO original for thinking that.) my battery died. I used my phone lots that day to pass the time, but I thought I had my charger with me. Turns out I did not, but there was nothing to be done about it at this point. I also forgot my purse that held the bulk of my cash, my driver's licence and my debit cards.

Somehow I got off on a tangent.

It's okay though, I mean, I lived just fine for years without an iPhone. (and apps, and facebook, and texting my friends, and instant google searching at my fingertips...) So, I sat in the parking lot, full of General Tso's chicken and tried to remember the way back to the interstate. After a few minutes reflection and my subsequent recollection of my terrible sense of direction, I decided the best bet would be to ask someone for directions. (Normally here, I'd use the GPS on my iPhone.) I asked random guys in an old thunderbird with t-tops. They told me true, and even though I was a bit nervous until I made my way back to I-24, it worked out.

After that, I settled back to move down the open road. A few minutes in, the silence killed me. I grabbed my daughter's iPod, but her tastes run too different from mine, and I could not reach my state of being that I normally fall into when driving. I gave up and decided it was a day for retro (I mean, I had just talked to guys in a t-bird.) and turned on the radio. I surfed through talk radio, some sort of sports commentary, and settled on what appeared to be an '80's station. It was fitting, and I belted for a bit along to Journey, Bon Jovi, and even Warrant.

However, after the Who and a song from Tommy, I was tired of commercial breaks and not funny DJ's. I longed for my random selection of Jamie approved music. It did not much matter though, I was not getting it, and I could not find an adult alternative station that would likely supply that which was fuel for my most recent of moods.

It was enough, though, to get me thinking. I thought about how accessible things are now. I sort of began to realize how much I take things for granted. Also, it seems that with the ease of everything, there is not much room for wonder or magic. (I wish I could think of a better word here, but none are forthcoming.)

You know, years ago, if I had a thought, say, about a bird or a tree or something I saw while out, then I would visit a library, or go and talk to people who maybe knew people and find things out. Or maybe even, I would not find things out until years later, when someone somewhere completely unrelated would say something resulting in an a-ha moment for me. But now, I immediately pull out my iPhone and google whatever popped in my head, and voila, I have an answer.

Likewise, I could not wait for events that would reunite me with friends who I did not get to see every day at school or work. Now, with texting and cell phones, I can talk to all of them all the time. I never have to wait to tell someone something... as soon as the thought pops in my mind, I pick up my phone and text or call, no matter how pointless the thought I want to share. (Guess what song just came up on random?! Yes, I've done that.)

There's no wait time. Instant gratification for practically everything all the time (Was I redundant here?). And as much as I enjoy it, take advantage of it even, I think, I thought, on that drive home, that it makes me sad a little bit. Were things perhaps better in a time when there was more room for wonder and less necessity for knowledge about everything? Is nothing worth the wait anymore? I remember that joy I would feel when my favorite song was finally played on the radio. I even called in the requests sometimes. Now, I navigate immediately to it on my iPhone... my favorite song as soon as I want it, because I made it happen.

I cannot even say how many times I went to reach for my phone on that drive home, either to look something up, to check my facebook, to text someone, or any number of other things that I obviously have a deep habit of doing. Each time, it was humbling. Are all these advances maybe somehow cheating me out of experiences?

In the end, with nothing I could control, I decided to watch the constellations and was recalled to other times I had noticed the stars, in other places, with other people

and it was nice.