A Ringing Phone

A Ringing Phone

Though we live in a day of technical gadgets, electronic contact, and virtual relationships, I must confess to a certain affinity for the telephone.  I’ve seen the features of the telephone change, both visually and practically.  Though young enough to have never used a phone mounted to the wall, I am old enough to remember when you could only move as far as the phone cord to the wall was long.  I also remember party lines, eavesdropping when it only rang once instead of twice for your number, prefixes that were words instead of area codes, and the luxury of immediate communication.

Recently, I read an article decrying a ringing phone as an irritating intrusion when communication can be done through texting or e-mail.  On the other hand, I love the availability of a phone, complete with caller id, date and time stamp, and wireless.  When our boys were away at school, I could remind them how long it had been since they called.  It was right there on the phone.  I could count the number of people who remembered my birthday.  I could decide whether or not to answer the telemarketer or charity solicitation. 

When I was younger, those luxuries didn’t exist.  Neither did the quick, technical communications of today.  The phone was a lifeline for a mom at home with small children and eager for another adult’s voice.  I can remember talking with friends for hours as I washed dishes, folded clothes, and checked on napping babies. 

Once, I had been on the phone so long that our older son, about four at the time, decided to use his little scissors to cut the cord and end my conversation.  The phone was the emergency line I used when our clothes dryer caught fire during the middle of the day when I was home alone with the boys.  It was how I checked on my parents daily and spoke with my brothers or sisters.  It was truly an integral part of every day.
    
As a pastor’s child, I also learned that when the phone rang after about 10 P.M., it usually meant that someone was in trouble, ill, or overwhelmed with hopelessness.  I can remember our family walking out of the door for a family vacation and hearing the phone ring.  As Dad answered the phone, we could tell that someone needed him because they were sick or in trouble.  That sense of urgency regarding a ringing telephone still motivates me to always get to that handset and check the caller id, just in case someone I love needs me. 

Somehow, that sense of desperation is lost in the world of text and copy.  That sense of personal connection and caring response can be dulled when messages are only sent and received when convenient.  It becomes easier to know just exactly what to say in retort or defensiveness and to hit send on a message which would never be said in person or that would be worked through when hearing the voice on the other end of the line.  Somehow, in the middle of all of our gadgets and sense of virtual contact, we may have lost some of the intimacy of real communication. 

As the world spins dizzyingly with change and innovation, I become more and more grateful for those things eternal, like my Heavenly Father who always answers when I call, regardless of the time and in spite of my caller id.  Call me, and I will answer you.  I will be with you in your time of trouble, says Psalm 91:15.  It’s never too early, never too late.  God is never too busy and always at home.  He always listens, and, somehow, that lessens the burden.  When no one else answers or responds, God is faithful to take the call of a beloved child who needs Him.  

© 2011 Gerry Sisk

(09/07/11)