Selected Ampersand

   We live in a world that is lost in the light of a screen. Almost never do we take the time to look up from that little white box to see the real things around us. The tangible, real living things. 
                                                                         ___________

    A few days ago, my family spent an evening over at Epcot in Disney World. We had a FastPass for TestTrack and the School Bread (properly titled Skolebrød) from Norway was calling our name (best treat ever, by the way). As we were leaving the park, we stopped by the bathroom. I waited outside on a bench with my brother while everyone else went in. All the people around us were on their cell phones. The light from the screen was lighting up their faces as their thumbs scrolled up and down their Facebook pages or Instagram feeds. I would’ve been on my phone too but it had died. It was somewhere buried down in my purse, unable to give me the entertainment I needed. I decided to people watch. The sky was growing dim and the lights on the Epcot ball were starting to shine -- yellow, orange, purple -- people all around were starting to take photos of it. There was this one woman I noticed, though. She sat in a red electronic wheelchair, the kind that the people sitting in them can control themselves. She was there, with a camera in her hands, looking up and taking photos of the big, lit-up ball. I could hear her shutter click slowly, letting in enough light so that the photo wouldn’t turn out dark, but still see all the beautiful color. I just sat there watching her, wondering how her photos would turn out once she got back to her home or hotel. After a few moments, I realized that I probably shouldn't be looking over at someone for too long, reminding myself that I didn’t want to look like a creep. Right before I looked away, the woman leaned on the front handle bars of her wheelchair with her elbows, stabling her camera for another shot, but as she did one of her elbows hit the reverse button and she started zooming backward in her wheelchair. Once she got it stopped, she looked up over at me. I just smiled at her, not really knowing what to do or say. She just smiled back at me, and then she started laughing. I started laughing too. There was just a small moment of light in the dusk that evening, as we both looked at each other and laughed. 

“Thank you. Thank you for laughing with me,” she said, “If my kids were to be here right now they would probably be yelling at me.” 

“You’re welcome,” I told her, not exactly sure what else to say.

She went on to say something else but a crowd started to gather and her voice got lost in the clutter. At the same time, the rest of my family came out of the bathroom and they continued to head out of the park. I waved goodbye and she waved goodbye back.

“What were you and that woman laughing about,” asked my mom as we walked away. 

I told her a shortened version and left it at that. I walked out of the park that night with a smile on my face.

___________

    I’ll probably never encounter that woman again. I will always remember her laugh, though. And the fact that if I was on my phone, I would have never been able to have that connection. Maybe all that woman needed was someone to laugh with her, not scolded or yell at her. Maybe, just maybe, that small moment of relief, that small moment free to laugh with a stranger, made a difference in her day.

 Where else can we make that small connection with people? My favorite author, Hannah Brencher once wrote, “...God needs me in the lives of other people, not their social feeds. It's hard but glorious to remember that real life happens off the screen. It happens in elevators and waiting rooms and restaurants and countertops.” 

 God need’s us in the lives of other people, not the people in our social feed. He needs someone to laugh with a person who needs to laugh and help a person who needs help. We need people and people need us. I find myself looking down into my phone way too often, instead of connecting with people around me. I will never know when some need just a fraction of  my time or a hint of my smile. Maybe I should let my phone die more often.  

    If you find yourself always lost in the light of your phone screen, spending way too much time on the people in your social feed instead of the people around you, I encourage you to let your phone die. Look up and give a smile to a stranger. You never know when someone needs to laugh.