And that’s when I noticed it. The quiet moments. The precious lulls in time I had rushed to Facebook to fill. 

As I lay in my bed that night, phone firmly placed on the nightstand instead of my palm, I honestly wondered to myself: well, now what do I do? What do I do with these slivers of time before sleep that are no longer spent staring into a 4.7in window?

Sad, but completely true.

And I began to wonder, if we are compulsively running to Facebook (or Twitter or Instagram or games or Netflix binges or anything else, for that matter) throughout the day…

When do we think?

When do we pray?

When do we listen to the still, small voice of God, if we give every quiet moment over to Facebook?

When do we read, something other then articles about the latest shooting or the 9 Signs You May Have a Leaky Gut or 5 Ways to Repurpose Baby Food Jars? I would read all those kinds of things, thinking I was informing myself and somehow improving my quality of life, but in reality, all I did was add to my already existent health anxiety and create more mental work for myself. 

Repurposing baby food jars? Ain’t nobody got time for that. Seriously.

When do we read, say, the Bible, or something that qualifies as real literature to enrich our lives?

When do we connect with our family without distractions?

When do we stop and listen to the tall tales of a two year old, however crazy sounding they may be, and get an uninterrupted glimpse into her creative little mind?

When do we roll down the window in the car on a summer drive and simply take in the smells of fresh cut grass and charcoal grills, notice the wildflowers, and feel the warm sun on our face, if we never look up?

When do we really talk with our husbands, after the kids are all asleep, so in ten years we still have a clue about the person sitting next to us on the couch?

Because if we're honest about it, there are things that steel our time—reinforce it, build it up, make it better and stronger and firmer, in the Lord and in relationship with others; encourage talents and gifts; help others—and there are things that steal our time—rob us of precious moments, productivity, and sleep that we can never get back.

We only have so much time here, so much time this day, and it’s so easy to waste it. It’s so easy to waste it without even wanting to because it’s become a bad habit.

Laundry that doesn’t get folded, craft supplies that never turn into gifts, books collected that never get finished. That’s just me, and that’s really just the beginning.

I know God is calling me to better things, more fruitful things. Things that I really do want to spend my time on, except I keep getting tripped up by the easy, the available. So Facebook will no longer be my default, and we are parting ways, at least for a time. I may deactivate my account sometime in the near future, but for right now it will just sit idle, collecting notifications.

Instead of checking Facebook at stoplights, waiting to turn left, I'll focus on the road and talk to my kids.

Instead of pulling out my phone in the evening or multitasking during Netflix, I'll look my husband in the eye and talk to him about things that matter.

Instead of plugging in during bath time, I'll sit and watch my kids play.

I'll sit on the front porch, enjoy the breeze, and marvel at the fact that everyone but the baby can ride a bike without training wheels now. I'll wonder where the time has gone and make sure from here on out that I'm not too distracted to notice it slip on by.

I'll stop looking so often at a small 4.7in screen that I fail to see the entire world right in front of my face.

I’ll still be here, though, rambling about my usual stuff and posting pictures, so you know where to find me if you need me. I’d love to connect with you all in the comments, through email, or better yet, in person!

I hope you have a great day, and if you want me to know what you had for lunch, what you’re doing with your kids today, or that you’re pissed off at your husband about something, you’ll have to text me, because otherwise, I won’t notice.