Most of my day, a dirty window filters the world. I view life through the car window, through a smudged mirror, through a computer screen. I see through glass, darkly.  Whenever I can I ride with my window down to feel the wind beating unpredictably on my face or hear the whisssh of tires on wet pavement after rain.

When I ride my bike, sometimes I am forced to wear sunglasses to keep the bugs and dust out of my eyes at critical moments.  I get spooked when I am spinning nearly out of control down a hill and I can barely see out of one eye while the other weeps in protest over an errant piece of sand. But I only tolerate sunglasses; I spend my life behind a film no more than I have to. When the glasses come off, life bursts into vivid color again. Have you noticed?

Today I found those walls built in my heart. Outside the glory of the Lord shines while I am hunched behind stacks of mental clutter. Man, I do not like how the computer has crowded out real life.

I mean to take it firmly to task, reminding it of its place in my life as a tool, no more. Where I can serve God through my wretched typing, fine. But when it seeks to beguile me with Stuff I Just Have to Look Up, I will sternly slap down the lid and tend to something else. I can certainly go to bed earlier!

I make exception for the Lizzie Bennet diaries, but they only last four minutes on Mondays and Thursdays, after all. I’ll think of it as a piece of dark chocolate at the end of a good day.