Escape

I just wanted to run away.

Not literally. But I wanted an escape. A break. I was acting on instinct, almost like a hunted animal.

Corey’s gone, all four kids need me, it’s raining again and I have no one coming to rescue me. I am all alone.

My natural reaction to the panic of the moment was to seek, as if my life depended on it, a diversion. A distraction. I needed to quell the anxiety rising in my throat.

So I ran – to the computer.

I jumped into the Twitter stream. Then I flipped through Facebook. I read a few blogs. The news of the day. The weather forecast (for more than one city, naturally). Miss Manners. Ask Amy. The comics.

Fifteen minutes later, I felt calmer. More in control. I was better able to handle the chaos outside my bedroom door (and at my feet, let’s be honest).

The Internet drug had worked. I was sedated.

But I wasn’t more Christ-like. I wasn’t infused with a fresh measure of God’s strength. I wasn’t anymore prepared to love well than when I ran to the laptop seeking.

I’m immensely thankful for the connections technology enables. My friendships, in real-life and online, are support, laughter, encouragement.

But they are not God.

Nor should they be.