We’re in the middle of a series titled inTIMEacy where we’re looking at various spiritual disciplines and how they help us grow in our relationship with Christ. A few weeks ago I talked about the secret place that is the secret to Christlikeness and in it read an article called, “I Want To Be An iPhone For Christmas.”
Hit play on the video below to check out the clip and feel free to use / pass this blog post along as you’d like.
I Want To Be An iPhone For Christmas
I want to be my husband’s iPhone. He’d be drawn to me with magnetic force – always wanting to hold me. I’d be his first thought each morning – the vision in his waking eyes. Nary an hour would pass without his fingertips caressing my face.
My husband would gaze at me and ask me questions, waiting patiently for the answers he knew would come. His evenings would be spent learning more about me and how I could make his life more fulfilling.
I remember, with nostalgia, a trip to England my husband and I took years ago. Before the dawn of iPhones and their competitors, I was in charge of holding the unwieldy maps and verbalizing the directions. From Oxford to Cartmel to York to Rye, my husband and I traveled.
How I would beam each time my husband told friends and family the story of what a competent navigator I was! “The whole week, we never made a wrong turn,” he would brag, squeezing my hand.
The iPhone is the ultimate navigator. We can never be lost. We never have to hold hands and just hope for the best. The iPhone knows where all the gas stations are, all the restaurants. It is a link to everyone we know. We are never alone. We are never adventurers.
Now, at social gatherings, he pulls out the phone. He brags on its abilities, saying, “Have you seen this app?”
The iPhone begins and ends conversations. No question can simply be speculated about, for within minutes the iPhone has answered it – even by a campfire in the middle of the woods.
At home, a tender moment in a movie we are watching echoes one of our own memories. I look at my husband, our son cuddled upon his lap, to give him a knowing smile. He doesn’t notice me. Nor has he noticed the scene. He is entranced by a miniature screen. He’s right here, yet loneliness pervades me.
The iPhone is the preferred entertainment. Holding it, you hold magic – the magic of never having to be fully in the room with another person.
Yes, I want to be my husband’s iPhone, cradled and protected at all times. Oh, the conversations we would have – his lips close to my ear. We would play together. I would sing for him, and he would buy me music and other presents.
A husband and wife should complement one another, like two puzzle pieces made to fit, each filling the other’s weaknesses with his or her strengths.
Now, the iPhone has become my husband’s missing piece. It gives him confidence, boosts his self-esteem. Oh, that I might morph into that rectangular shape that I might, once again, be my beloved’s other half.
As an iPhone, I would be his most valued possession, the object of his attention, his indispensable helpmate. And, being all of that, I wouldn’t have to miss him anymore.
Carol Bullman of Allen is author of “The Christmas House.” She can be contacted through carolbullman.com.