Can I confess something to you? There’s one thing Aileen does that really bugs me. We will be talking together and enjoying one another’s company. But then, as we chat, I’ll hear the telltale buzz of her phone. And I can tell that I’ve lost her. I can see it in the look on her face, I can hear it in the tone of her voice. She goes from making eye contact to breaking it, from engaged to distracted, from involved in conversation to muttering toneless “uh huhs.” I know immediately that I may as well just pause and wait so she can check her phone and reply to the message.
An old author once pointed out “the Pharisee in the temple confessed a great many sins—but they were his neighbor’s sins and the publican’s sins; he made no confession of sin for himself.” Ouch.
So on that note, I am guilty as charged. I know I do the exact same thing as Aileen. Yet for some reason, my own behavior doesn’t trouble me nearly as much as her’s. I suppose I’ve convinced myself that I alone have the
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