What a Morning Without My iPhone Taught Me
By Catherine Gilmore
I like to believe that I am a woman of few attachments. When my students break my stapler or my neighbor puts a long scratch down the back-passenger door of my car, I shrug it off. I stain clothes, lose things, and spill my dark roast coffee beans all over the floor at 6:15 a.m––and that’s alright. I must be very detached from this world, right?
Well, I recently received a much needed wake-up call to remind me how attached I actually am. It wasn’t during a pilgrimage, a service project, a week without electricity, or a catastrophic life event. It was when I went a single morning without my iPhone.
The morning began shortly after midnight one Sunday. I had just arrived home from spending time with friends. As I usually did, I went to take out my phone to text my boyfriend that I had arrived safely—until I realized I had left my phone in the cup holder of a camping chair at the bonfire I had just attended.
I switched on my work computer and sent a couple Facebook messages. The phone was found, and my boyfriend would bring it by the next day before lunch. All was well.
However, the small inconveniences of not having my phone soon made themselves quite apparent. I woke up the next morning without an alarm and without having my usual way of telling the time. I realized how very attached I am to my alarm and my need to control the time I get up, even on the weekends. I also realized that looking at my phone is one of the first things I do in the morning.
I looked out the window and saw it was a blustery day. What was the temperature? I didn’t have my weather app to see the day’s forecast, which I consider essential to knowing how to dress appropriately.
I thought about texting my friends who I had plans with that day, but I couldn’t.
I thought about reading the daily Gospel, but I had to think of another way to give God space that morning since I didn't have quick access to my conveniently emailed daily devotional.
I wanted to check my social media to “relax” and see how my friends had spent their weekends, but I couldn’t do that either.
Missing all these little conveniences for one morning may seem very trivial, but it really got me thinking. It made me consider my attachments and priorities. All of the things I was missing that morning are good things. It is important to get up for work on time, dress for the weather, have a prayer routine, and keep up with friends. But when our attachments become so important and, dare I say, mindless, it is time to stop and reexamine life.
That Sunday morning, I spent time reading a book by Fulton Sheen, enjoying my coffee without mindless scrolling, and letting my worry about social obligations go.
A whole morning without constantly picking up my phone made me realize just how attached I am to that small piece of technology, how reliant I am on a material possession. It made me question the way I consume information and expect to always have my phone near me. It made me think about my priorities.
Do I wake up in the morning and immediately think about all the ways I need God?
Do I reach for Him first?
Do I let Him show me how He wants my day to look?
Do I spend as much time in the morning praying for my friends as I do scrolling through their social media feeds?
Do I thank God for the weather instead of complaining about the temperature and worrying about my outfit?
Do I carry my awareness of God’s presence in my heart the way I carry my iPhone in my pocket?
And the most important question: Do I put God first?
So here is a challenge for you and for me: turn off your phone and put it somewhere you won’t be tempted to check it. Go the whole morning or the whole day without it and ask God to open your eyes to the ways you are attached to the things of this world and to the ways you can love Him more. Let this prayer from St. Peter Faber be your guide in the process:
I beg of you, my Lord,
to remove anything which separates
me from You, and You from me.
Remove anything that makes me unworthy
of Your sight, Your control, Your reprehension;
of Your speech and conversation,
of Your benevolence and love.
Cast from me every evil
that stands in the way of my seeing You,
hearing, tasting, savoring, and touching You;
fearing and being mindful of You;
knowing, trusting, loving, and possessing You;
being conscious of Your presence
and, as far as may be, enjoying You.
This is what I ask for myself
and earnestly desire from you.
Amen.
