January 11, 2016

Interlude

It definitely wasn’t planned. In fact, I’d canceled other plans to be able to focus hard, all day, on school. But God’s plans aren’t mine. And our internet was down all day, meaning I couldn’t do one lick of school. Also meaning I couldn’t do a lick of online socializing or distriactifying.

Now, I’ve gone long stretches without the internet before, and focused on school before checking social media and all that. But lately, the internet has been hanging over me. Seems like there’s always just one more rabbit trail and one more funny – albeit useless – video tempting me. And I’ve turned to it again and again to occupy my time.

But something about today’s sheer inability to connect to the internet freed me. Emails weren’t even an option, not to mention other social media or Youtube. I didn’t even have to think about those things.

So there I was, staring an interlude in the face. (I like that word. So I’ll use it. :P) What to do? I copied recipes onto cards and cut articles out of a magazine. I wrote a few letters. Then I cleaned and de-cluttered my room. I threw lots of paper in the recycling, per Ariel style (i.e. if you don’t need it, toss it. Preferably at someone who needs it, but if not, in the recycling or compost bin.), and sent the dust bunnies under my bed to dust bunny heaven. Or the vacuum bag, whichever you prefer. I found all the notes my co-laborers at Gull Lake Ministries wrote me over the summer, and paragraphs I’d written in Elvish a few years back (yes. I used to know how to write Elvish. You should try it; it’s pretty easy and looks gorgeous.). I watched the snow fly lazily in every direction outside my windows as I sprawled across my bed and pecked out this post.
The day passed slowly and sweetly. Each moment seemed to be savoring life, and I did too. It was lovely. I do hope our internet is up and running tomorrow, because my school desperately needs done. But today I desperately needed this interlude. It gave me time to breathe, to get things done, and to remember that life does not revolve around my computer. 

In fact, it’s often more vibrant without.