When I recently spoke at a retreat, the organizers there asked for my cell phone number. I told them I don't own a cell phone and they looked at me like I had said I don't have indoor plumbing. It's not that I ever decided not to get one. It's just that I never decided to get one, if you get the distinction.
No doubt I'll give in eventually, like I finally purchased an answering machine-and then was annoyed at people who didn't have one when I called.
I did have a microwave oven once (my mother gave me her old one) but banished it when my Mr. Science Guy nephew told me it nukes 98 percent of the nutrients in food. May as well cut up and eat a magazine picture of steak, peas, and mashed potatoes, like the Depression era kid did in the movie King of the Hill.
There have been a few times I wished I had a mobile phone-like when I was sitting along Route 75 in Michigan's Upper Peninsula in a crumpled car after swerving to avoid a deer.
Someone sent me these thoughts on cells, which I would like to share:
"I wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible like we treat our cell phones. What if we carried it around in our pockets? What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it? What if we flipped through it several times a day? What if we used it to receive messages from the text? What if we couldn't live without it? We don't have to worry about our Bible being disconnected because Jesus already paid the bill."