It’s Alive by Bill Pike

I keep the charging cord for my flip phone in a drawer in the kitchen. That’s correct, I said flip phone. IMG_1376.jpg

My wife and our grown children shake their heads that I still use a flip phone. I think they are embarrassed when I need to use the phone in their presence.

All these new phones have too much junk on them for a rapidly aging grump like me. When it comes to cell phones, I believe in the KISS principle (keep it simple stupid).

Yes, texting is a pain on my phone, but I generally will send back one word responses if someone sends me a text.

I am a bit intrigued about newer phones that have improved photographic and video capacity. Almost daily, I’m reminded that if I had a new phone, my access to our grandchildren via technology would quickly improve.

That’s a good point, but I’m not ready to cave in—yet.

But, I do have a concern about the cord I use to recharge my cell phone—I’m pretty sure it is alive.

I have a hunch that deep down inside, you have reached a similar conclusion about your charging cord.

However, you have been hesitant to say this out loud in public. You are probably concerned that someone might think the gray matter between your ears is leaking if you told a friend in confidence that the charging cord for your cell phone is alive.

That’s ok, I’ll say it for you, and all of the rest of the timid souls out there—my cell phone charging cord is alive.

Here is my theory.

When I’m charging my phone, somewhere in that cord is an embedded microscopic cell. While the phone is charging, some of the electricity from the outlet is diverted to this cell and stored.

After my phone is charged, I disconnect the cord from the outlet. I gently roll the cord back up into a small circle. I return it to the drawer.

In couple of days, I come back to the drawer ready to use the cord again. I unravel the cord and stretch it out. To my dismay, I find that somehow, someway, the cord has formed a loop in the middle of the cord. If I pulled it tight, a knot would form.

How can this be? How does a cord left alone in a drawer for two days move about to form a loop, and not just any loop, but a loop that could become a knot?

I’m pretty sure that all the great minds of science Wally’s friend Clarence, (nicknamed Lumpy), Ernest T. Bass, and Uncle Jed’s nephew, Jethro, have reached the same conclusion:   the cord is alive.

That stored cellular electricity in the cord brings life, and the cord like a stealthy intruder, silently moves around in the drawer and creates this entanglement.

I’m convinced the cord knows these covert maneuvers drive me nuts. One day, when I least expect it the cord will spring from the drawer and rapidly wrap me up. Then it will alert similar cords in the house, and a redemptive revolution of some sort will take place.

Sometimes, my life feels like a twisted and knotted cord.  Despite my best efforts, I become so entangled with  all of my responsibilities that I lose my focus and effectiveness.

I recently turned 65.

I am constantly reminded about how fast time is moving.

Sitting at a stoplight the other day the clicks of my turn signal seemed to match the nonstop soundless clicks on my watch.

Time is relentless. Time clicks.

Time never rests.

It is always on the move.

That coiled charging cord in the drawer is moving too.

But, a twisted cord in a drawer is nothing compared to the entanglements that sometimes wrap my life, and maybe your life too.

While my entanglements wear on me, I often find my blunders are pale in comparison to challenges of people all around me.

How do we free ourselves from such snarls?

How do we prevent these twisted coils from tightening even more?

It took a lot of years, and while I am not perfect in my loyalty, I have found that entanglements can recoil with prayer.

In Psalm 42 and 43, the following verse appears three times:

 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God. (Psalm 42:11)

Clearly, entanglements have the capacity to cast me down while internally silencing me.

But in those worrisome seconds that are ticking by, wearing me down, I need to slow my pace, and realize— I can also find help and hope in God.

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