My cellphone has died. I was sitting in a meeting room this afternoon, patiently listening to my colleagues describe in minute detail (that's what this week is about - minute mind-numbing detail), when I glanced down at my phone on the table in front of me. The screen had gone blank - it was white. The keypad wasn't responding. Eventually, the screen goes black, the led light goes red, as if in a last gasp effort to save itself. Then the whole thing becomes nothing more than a store display model. Useless.
All efforts to revive said phone have failed. Internet searches reveal that this a relatively common issue for this model. So that's nice. Internet searches also reveal potential fixes. Seven hours later, none of these fixes work. The phone is dead. Long live the phone. When it's replacement is sourced.
Not having the security of the contactability is absoutely dilapidating. The feeling of disconnect and vulnerability is very real. How did I ever survive growing up in Africa without a cellphone? It's a miracle that I made it to adulthood.
In all seriousness, not being able to text or phone Love, on a whim, is really disconcerting. These trips are palatable (sometimes only just) because I can connect anytime, and Love and the Girls can connect with me. Walking through markets, I can slip my phone out of my pocket a pop a question on size or colour or appropriateness. Walking past something that would tickle the girls interest, and being able to snap the moment onto a micro SD card.
Like this evening. I had dinner with Simon and Ping at Suntec, at a Chinese restaurant opposite the Fountain of Wealth. How cool would it have been to snap a shot of the colourful dance of water and include it in a blog. Imagine it - right here.
Dinner with Simon and Ping was great. They are an inspirational couple. So comfortable in who they are in themselves and in God. Simon taught me so much about being a man of faith in the world, in the workplace. That in fact the two aren't mutually exclusive, but the ooposite - they co-exist because they must.
Seeing them again reminded how far we - Love and I - have come since we first arrived here almost exactly three years ago. Brighted eyed and clueless. Knowing of God, but not really knowing God. We've come to the place where we know we'll never really arrive, but arriving isn't as important as staying the course and continuing the journey.
Love posted the most amazing post today. A depth, insight and revelation that was spine tingling. I read it, and re-read it, drinking the words. First gulping them, them slowing sipping them. Letting them linger, to truly taste them, before swallowing them and letting the fill me and enrich me.
Amy Joan, you have a wonderful gift that is being unwrapped. The Giver is sitting across the room, watching with marvel and excitement as you peel away layers of wrapping and become more and more aware of what it is He has given you.
You're not sure yet whether this gift is truly for you. You wonder if it's all a mistake, and when the right recepient will take it from you.
The gift has your name on it. It is yours. Truly, says the Giver.
All efforts to revive said phone have failed. Internet searches reveal that this a relatively common issue for this model. So that's nice. Internet searches also reveal potential fixes. Seven hours later, none of these fixes work. The phone is dead. Long live the phone. When it's replacement is sourced.
Not having the security of the contactability is absoutely dilapidating. The feeling of disconnect and vulnerability is very real. How did I ever survive growing up in Africa without a cellphone? It's a miracle that I made it to adulthood.
In all seriousness, not being able to text or phone Love, on a whim, is really disconcerting. These trips are palatable (sometimes only just) because I can connect anytime, and Love and the Girls can connect with me. Walking through markets, I can slip my phone out of my pocket a pop a question on size or colour or appropriateness. Walking past something that would tickle the girls interest, and being able to snap the moment onto a micro SD card.
Like this evening. I had dinner with Simon and Ping at Suntec, at a Chinese restaurant opposite the Fountain of Wealth. How cool would it have been to snap a shot of the colourful dance of water and include it in a blog. Imagine it - right here.
Dinner with Simon and Ping was great. They are an inspirational couple. So comfortable in who they are in themselves and in God. Simon taught me so much about being a man of faith in the world, in the workplace. That in fact the two aren't mutually exclusive, but the ooposite - they co-exist because they must.
Seeing them again reminded how far we - Love and I - have come since we first arrived here almost exactly three years ago. Brighted eyed and clueless. Knowing of God, but not really knowing God. We've come to the place where we know we'll never really arrive, but arriving isn't as important as staying the course and continuing the journey.
Love posted the most amazing post today. A depth, insight and revelation that was spine tingling. I read it, and re-read it, drinking the words. First gulping them, them slowing sipping them. Letting them linger, to truly taste them, before swallowing them and letting the fill me and enrich me.
Amy Joan, you have a wonderful gift that is being unwrapped. The Giver is sitting across the room, watching with marvel and excitement as you peel away layers of wrapping and become more and more aware of what it is He has given you.
You're not sure yet whether this gift is truly for you. You wonder if it's all a mistake, and when the right recepient will take it from you.
The gift has your name on it. It is yours. Truly, says the Giver.
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