I was reluctant to get my first mobile phone. I had borrowed a bag phone from my father-in-law and could see the utility of having a way to communicate when from away from home. In those days the cellular network was far from complete and the phone didn’t work in many remote locations. I have always been attracted to remote places. The main reason I hesitated to get a mobile phone, however, was that I though that having a phone in my car would interrupt my private time and space. The car was a good place for talking with my family when they were with me and a good place for peace and quiet when I traveled alone. “Who,” I wondered, “would want to be interrupted when driving a car?”

I finally got a cell phone because the office administrator at the church was frustrated at not being able to find me when parishioners called or when a decision was needed. I think my predecessor kept regular office hours. I, on the other hand, felt that my work was being with people, so I was present on Sundays, but often out visiting during the week. Getting the phone made me more accessible to other church staff. It was all part of learning to be a senior pastor in a multi-staff church. I quickly adjusted.

I was quick to adopt a smart phone when they became available. By then I was carrying my cell phone nearly everywhere I went. In addition I was using a digital personal assistant for addresses and calendaring. The smart phone enabled me to go from two devices to one: progress!

These days my cell phone is a constant companion. When we sold our house in Rapid City, we gave up our phone land line. Now we only have our cell phones and we haven’t felt the need for having a home phone. And these phones do so much more than the older models. They have reasonable digital cameras for photos. They can access the Internet. They can send and receive text messages and email. they can track fitness and record medicines.

However, one thing I am trying to do in my retirement is to wean myself from constant digital connectedness. So sometimes, I take a break from my devices.

As a result, last night I watched the sunset on the beach with my wife and three oldest grandchildren. And I didn’t have my phone with me. I didn’t have any camera with me. I was free to simply experience my family and the sunset. It was glorious. However, when the kids climbed up on a huge driftwood log, I found myself longing for a camera. When I paused to think and experience my emotions, however, I realized that being forced to simply experience the moment was in itself a gift.

I have no intention of giving up cameras and taking photos. I have no intention of giving up my phone or my computer. I am, however, going to give myself the gift of occasional breaks from technology. Sometimes, like last night, it will be just a few minutes. Sometimes, like a planned sailing adventure in mid-September, it will be several days.

I have an inexpensive lined journal that Susan picked up at the dollar store. When I am away from my computer, I will record my journal entries by writing on paper. This entry was originally written in my paper journal and then entered into the computer later when I returned form our brief camping adventure.

When I do write in my paper journal, I won’t bother to count words. I suspect that my journal entries will be shorter than my usual. I am out of practice with pen and paper. I can “write” much faster with a computer.

I have to remind myself that I am just now learning the art of retirement. Retirement doesn’t mean that I give up my disciplines, but it is an invitation to develop greater flexibility. Sometimes doing nothing is as valuable as doing something. That doesn’t come easy for me. I have long been a take charge and get things done kind of person.

Thank you for your patience with me as I live through these adjustments.

And, the reason there is a picture with today’s post is that Susan did have her phone with her when we were down at the beach. It would have been irresponsible not to have a way to contact emergency services had we needed them, so when we have our grandchildren with us we try to have some way of communicating with us. Susan was not only responsible, she also captured the moment for us to share.