When Tractors Got Headlights

It was one of those lovely, lazy spring afternoons. Tom and I were coming back from a drive to Bandera. Windows down. Breeze, perfectly pleasant. The sky, azure blue against the new growth of leaves and grass, was mesmerizing.

The only thing interrupting this idyllic view was the sign of progress - telephone poles and lines punctuating the scene in rhythmic succession.

I turned to my husband and said, "You know, for everything we gain in advancements and technology... a little something is also lost."

I understand that progress is inescapable and that the "Genie" of technology will never inhabit the bottle again. I wouldn't want to go backward, not really. Then again, there were some pretty wonderful things about the days of yore that were valuable simply because of the time and space they created to linger... to slow the pace... to... breathe.

I know this must sound ridiculous. After all, these advancements have made so much of our daily lives more efficient. We can do more, accomplish more, in the same twenty-four hours.

But herein lies the problem. For each and every thing we gain, a little something else is lost.

Take the tractor for example. Before headlights came onto the scene, a farmer's work was done when the sun set. His long hours of labor were rewarded with time spent eating dinner together as a family. Evenings were occupied playing with his children, conversing with his wife, leading devotions, and putting the kids to bed with hugs and prayers.

Once technology enabled him to work longer into the night, competition with others doing the same meant he had to spend those longer hours behind the wheel instead of with his family if he wanted to "keep up."

Haven't we experienced the same thing in our own workplaces today? Even when we're not in the office, we're still at work... connected to our tablets, phones, and watches. If we're not connected, we're not competitive. At least, that's what we tell ourselves, and unfortunately, it's often true.

Hyper-connectedness with outside sources means there's not as much time for connectedness with inside sources... meaning those we love and value most.

Progress is meant to save us time, but what technology has actually managed to do is to create time for us to be busier.

That was never the idea, nor was it the goal. But, when a vacuum of empty time is formed, our innate desire is to fill it; and if we don't fill it with things that are truly meaningful, we will fill it with whatever presents itself at the time. That might be more work or even mindless scrolling on social media.

Our dishes are done with the push of a button, our floors are vacuumed by a robot, and our bellies are filled with fast food... all in the name of convenience.

I get it. We're busy people. Something's gotta give, but in relegating the dishes (let's say) to a machine, we might be missing out on the cathartic, therapy of suds and warm water that soothe both our tired hands and our exhausted minds at the end of a long day.

We buy gym memberships because we no longer have the time (or take the time) to do all those household chores that stretch and exercise our bodies by their very nature, while accomplishing the tasks at hand.

Fast food restaurants and convenience foods at the supermarket replace home-cooked meals because... "Who has the time to cook from scratch?" Statistics show, however that for all that time gained, we're losing the battle when it comes to our health.

Snail mail has been replaced by e-mail. Hand written letters, invitations, and notes of thanks are becoming obsolete... substituted by simple E-vites and text messages. Never before in the history of the world have we been so instantly connected to others, yet often still so very lonely.

Ok. Ok. Enough of the rant. Truth is, we can't go back. We shouldn't. We wouldn't really want to.

I will always hold dear the ideal of the family doctor who treated my parents, delivered me, and doctored my children, but I wouldn't want to trade that for all the amazing advancements medicine has made in the past couple of decades.

I guess all that to say, progress has its place. It can be used for good... or bad. We must be wise enough to use it well. Our lives are still ours to manage. Our time here on this earth our gift and our blessing.

Time is our most valuable commodity, for it is the only thing, that once spent, can never be regained. So... along with the great William Shakespeare ("The Merchant of Venice") let us remember...

"All that glitters is not gold."