This is not the mode of technology to which I'm accustomed. In our Phoenix home, we are wirelessly connected to the fastest internet access available. Here, we're connected via satellite. I picture animation of every signal I send to the worldwide web producing a yellow broken line as it moves from our little rooftop to a satellite high above the earth. Blip, blip, blip, blip...my message climbs slowly skyward until it connects with a satellite, which in my mind's eye resembles something from the set of Lost in Space. Data makes it back from the satellite at the same painfully slow rate.

Isn't it funny that 15 years ago, we were just learning how to access the Web. We had no idea what was out there. Now, I still don't, but I want what it delivered immediately! 

This week our county was one of two in Montana that lost all long distance, internet and cell phone service for an afternoon. My husband and I drove into town and were relieved to find out we weren't alone. We were also glad to have cash for a cup of coffee at the Coffee Roasters, as all forms of electronic payment were meaningless. The mood at the hardware store and the coffee shop weren't ones of angry frustration. Instead, there was a pleasant "It is what it is" camaraderie as folks remembered when a fiber optic cable was cut near Miles City once and it took more than a day for some to have service restored.

We came back to the cabin and were able to let our family and business associates know, via our own little satellite connection, that we would not be available by phone for awhile. Suddenly, our satellite took on a new personal and reliable frame of reference in my estimation.

In my post about my evolving sense of how I see time, In the Tunnels of Life I shared a tragic life lesson that made me stop and reassess how I view time. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of spending a lot of my life getting the most out of time. Managing it; multi-tasking through it and reveling in comments like "I don't know how you do it!" and "When do you sleep?"

Sometimes, I slip back into that mode, but I find that when I'm so very caught up in the "doing" that I miss "being." Being present to see what God has to teach me in a moment, rather than molding the moment to meet my objectives. Being still, so that the noise of my own directives doesn't silence the still small voice of calm (quote from a favorite hymn, "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind") or the voice behind me saying  "This is the way, walk in it." (Isaiah 30:21).

I wish I could say I've mastered the art of using time wisely, but at least I understand now that it is a limited and precious commodity. I know, too, that it is perceived differently by every individual. Some feel they never have enough. Others feel it's limitless and easy to share. I see it and use it differently than you do simply because I'm me, and my internal operating system may run on different software than yours. But in spite of different interpretations and perspectives,  I know that if I spent time with you, I could learn something from you that would make my journey all the richer...that is the gift of times shared. Care to share some with me?