There's something conspicuously absent in my life these days. ("These days" refers to the days since we started having children and added smart phones.) The missing something is what I think of as "the wonder factor." I don't notice that the "wonder factor" is absent because I'm not usually confronted with it and our new normal quickly becomes the only normal we know. However, a few things happened recently that made me ponder the missing wonder.
When I was growing up, there weren't cell phones. (I know I sound so ancient, but it doesn't seem that long ago!) When I said goodbye to my parents in the morning, I wouldn't talk to them (or text!) until I saw them again that evening. We had to communicate with one another. Maybe we would leave a note on the counter: Going on a walk. Be back by 4. Or a reminder post it note in the car: pick up mail, please. There were several times that I waited for rides home from sports practices or games when the school was closed (hence, the office phone was unavailable) and I had to WONDER... do mom and dad remember that I'm here? How long should I wait? Should I walk to a friend's house? If I leave to call them and then they come, will we miss each other? Did they already come and go home without seeing me? What if it starts raining?
All of these questions were my wondering. I would ask questions that didn't have answers and I would try to provide answers for myself. There wasn't anyone else to answer these questions and there weren't necessarily any right answers. There was just me, wondering.
On our summer trip to Il, I had a wondering moment. We brought out Labrador puppy with us on this trip. At our VA house, he sleeps on the floor in the bedroom. In IL, he has to stay outside. It was going to rain and I heard Stirco whining outside. I wondered if he would be okay and settle down. I wondered if he would do better in his crate on the porch. I wondered if he would wake up the 11 sleeping cousins. I wondered if I should sleep downstairs near the crate so he would settle in (oh! the things we do!). I wondered what The Lawyer would do. Alas, it was too late to call or text him. Everyone else was in already in bed. I was the only one awake, thinking about the whining puppy. I was tempted to grab my phone... to look up some sort of solution to this problem I was facing. There wasn't an easy question to put on an internet search and I knew there weren't any cyber answers for me. The situation warranted wondering. It wasn't a simple, solve-able problem, but one that needed care and intuition and creative thinking- all things that come better from a wondering mind than from a phone.
I was uncomfortable- so much so that it startled me. Have I become SO dependent on my phone for answers? Yes. Yes I have. It was uncomfortable to not have an easy answer to the dog dilemma. I had to wait and listen to him. I had to try a few different things. It took time to pet him, calm him, and to muddle through my options. He knows how to open doors, so I can't really leave him out without locking the doors. He could break through the screen door when I'm upstairs and that wouldn't be good, so I probably should block off that door. If he's wet, his electric collar could be a problem. Do I think he would run away or hide in the rain? Is he more likely to stay at the back door, or get into trouble somewhere else on the farm? What should I do?
After deciding on a plan to leave him outside without his collar, I went back up to bed. I lay in the dark, listening to the night sounds of the farm, the frogs, the bugs. . . and the dog (again). Not wanting to disturb anyone, I went back downstairs again for a second try.
In the cool darkness, with the moon shining and the solar lights' gentle glow, I pet Stirco and wondered. It was a strange feeling, one I hadn't had for so long, this thinking things through without any clear answer, without soliciting opinions or help. At the same time, it was a familiar discomfort. It totally reminded me of those lonely nights waiting outside the school gym, wondering if my parents would come or what I should do. I found myself praying for wisdom, turning ideas over in my head, and wearily accepting that there wasn't a clear answer. I had to trust that it would be okay. Thankfully, it was. It usually is. But how interesting that we may be regularly missing out on the "wonder factor." Maybe my children haven't even experienced it, in a world with google, facebook, voxer, texting, and youtube.
I dare say we are missing more than the wondering. We might just be missing the stretching and the scheming and the dreaming and the possibility thinking that our brains were made for. We might be missing the sometimes loneliness and the smallness that cause us to not only reach out, but reach UP when there is no one nearby to reach out to. We might be missing the mystery of dependance on Providence and the goodness of seeing faithful, supernatural provision and protection. I don't know. Maybe I'm making too much of this. I'm just thankful for that night with the dog when I realized how precious the "wonder factor" is.
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