Spring

My phone did a bad thing.

My phone did a bad thing.

The past few days my Apple device has been acting up when I text. The little micro machine always telling me my storage is full, and I don’t have the space capacity needed for the new iOS update. As a result, I can’t log into my bank app and my camera shuts down frequently.

First world problems. Yes.

I take too many pictures on my micro machine. This micro machine is also a time machine. On it lives very important memories.

Treasured ones. His voice. His pictures. His words. Dad’s.

I carry pieces of who he was in my phone which means he’s always in my purse, on my desk, on my bedside table.

This morning, to remedy the odd text message problem, I pressed the center button and the other one – you know the small one on the right. The combination of my pressing prompted a computer reset.

I needed my micro machine working properly – ready to respond to my every communication demand.

I used my fingerprint touch id (the future is now) to log back in after the reset and I promptly received three texts in the correct order. I scanned my family’s messages and set my phone down. Fixed.

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Wait, something’s not right.

All of my previous message conversations ……… gone. The ones from when we got engaged, group celebrations, and family archives. Missing in the line up.

Also missing are two text threads I had with Dad. One, a joking joint conversation with my brother – the three of us discussing mac and cheese options for brother’s birthday dinner. The other, a long standing thread of individual texts with Dad.

Our conversations. Stopped abruptly by his stupid early departure from this planet.

And today, when I reset my phone, the conversation went missing.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I said to myself as I started to panic at my desk. Around me, my co-workers reviewed reports and I was supposed to be doing data entry.  My eyes started watering.

I muttered some other choice words and quickly texted Dylan asking what I could do to back up my phone.

“Google it, ” he said.

Everyone’s damn answer is Google it. 

I don’t think I backed up my phone and I’ll have to log on to explore iCloud and text recovery and all these IT language things I’m not sure I understand.

What I do get, however, is that sometimes life rudely takes things away from you before you were ready. 

Another thing Dylan suggested was to try to send a text to the number and see if it would bring up the thread. That number has been out of service for over a year and a half. Is it more painful to text a number he certainly won’t answer, or to risk never seeing that thread again?

Although memorized, Dad’s personal contact with office, home and cell numbers still lives in my phone. I couldn’t delete it because our jokes and check-ins still sat in my messages. Sometime, I said, I’d write them all down. I was waiting for when I was ready.

I bravely deleted Dad from my favorites in my phone about nine months ago. I made a choice to take that step. We already let go of his ashes, some of his clothes, his crap in the garage and in the storage room we affectionately called his “study”. I could let go of him being a favorite caller in my phone.

I wasn’t ready to let go of those texts. Shit.

This morning, before the dreaded reset, I logged on to Facebook and saw that a friend from high school just lost her friend to brain cancer. Age 30. This woman was taken too soon. Cancer took her before my friend was ready. Before any of her family, or friends, or co-workers were ready. I don’t know this woman, and I rarely talk to this high school acquaintance but I got goosebumps this morning – for that family, that beautiful woman, the husband now widowed at my age. Tears for what was taken abruptly from them.

Everywhere we look things are getting taken from us.

But.

But.

Every single day things are given to us too.

 This weekend I threw a baby shower for a friend I’ve known for fifteen years. It’s miraculous to watch your friends prepare for parenthood. To bless them with onesies and diapers and things that suck snot out of their children’s noses. Yup, that’s a thing.

Investing in dear friends as they go big through transitions is a beautiful gift.

Tulips are popping up through the cold ground without direction – loved into being by instinct and sunshine that God provides.

The weather is warming and trees are blooming. The promise of spring lingers.

More texts do come in on my phone, though none from him.

So, tonight, I’ll try to find those texts and trust God that maybe He knew I don’t need to be carrying that weight around in my purse, on my desk, or my bedside table.

Open some storage space. Ouch.

Let new, beautiful things – photos, voices, and words – flood in.

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Art by Gracelaced

 

 

Update – later this evening, thanks to that same, frustrating IT, I was able to locate the conversations I was looking for. All praise to the Cloud. The Jesus one and Apple too.

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Meet Ruby

It’s rare, a day like today. Leap year only comes around every four years. Today’s twenty four hours feel rather special. How are you going to spend the time that will tick, tick, tick away oh-so quickly? You may be at work, or at appointments, or fulfilling obligations, but I hope you can take a step back from the daily grind and think big picture. This month, this year, we’ve been given the gift of just a little bit more extra time. This concept of an extra day is a beautiful thing.

Today, I would like to take this opportunity to make an introduction. Friends, I would like you to meet my little bike. Her name is Ruby.

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Ruby is a cruiser – front and to the left. She is slightly impractical for long rides on dirt paths, but she serves me well as we pedal through neighborhoods and along paved trails. She even has a cup holder for my coffee! While only equipped for one speed, this strong willed character with two wheels has become a welcomed companion to weekend adventures and jaunts that take us out and about.

Ruby has been hanging upside-down in our garage for much too long. The snow and cold weather kept her waiting patiently for brighter days that are on the horizon as February comes to an end. The teaser of spring is tantalizing my senses and Ruby is shaking in her fenders, ready to hit the road once again.

The weather this weekend was absolutely stunning, and I loved being able to be out and about in the sunshine. I enthusiastically took Ruby down from her storage hooks, pumped up her wheels, and took an adventure ride through our new neighborhood. As the sunshine warmed my shoulders, and the fresh air blew my hair in my face, I was reminded of the simple beauty that comes from hopping on a bicycle and taking time to explore.

Also, this weekend was the 88th Academy Awards. For those of you who don’t know – this is one of my favorite nights of the year! This, my friends, is my version of the Super Bowl. I love watching the glitz and glam of the red carpet, and celebrating artistic achievement in the wonderful world of movies that Hollywood creates. For my thoughts on last year’s awards, you can click here.

This year’s ceremony was quite controversial. Conversations about racism and sexism, diversity and inclusion permeated Chris Rock’s monologues and jokes, and I am sure that the Academy made intentional choices in selecting presenters, speeches, and entertainment alike. I do not intend to create a space of controversy or argument here in regards to these complex, multi-faceted issues.

I do, however, think it is fascinating that Hollywood brought these issues to light in front of an audience of millions of people. Thank you to Lady Gaga, too, for her powerful performance of “‘Til It Happens to You”. Her authentic efforts of advocacy in support of survivors of sexual assault are inspiring and much needed in our culture. This clip gave me the chills. We do have so much room to make progress.

Living in the tension and making choices to be kind to one another, to talk through difficult conversations, to create space for healing, and for bike rides. Those are beautiful things.