Know Peace No Internet


Typically, I’m tethered to my phone, responsive to texts, emails, and calls. But for two days, my husband and I would be hiking with our son, Tommy. He had a route planned to take us to great sights we’d never seen.

But I’d have zero cell signal, and only our son’s Garmin GPS in case of emergency.


We live in a time of hyper-connectivity. And that comes with the blessings of staying in touch with family and friends, and the ease of online-everything.


It also comes with predators. Many of us have had our Facebook accounts either hacked or cloned. But just before we were to take this two-day hiking adventure, someone hacked into our email—compromising sensitive information. 


We immediately went into freeze-mode—locking out would-be cyber thieves. In a world full of data breeches and the nefarious Dark Web—how can anyone be certain they are protected?  


Identity thieves steal your name and then go after as much as they can, as fast as they can.


Advertisers for fraud security plans will give you all the horror stories you need to feel frightened and vulnerable. Welcome, to the cyber underworld.


But we left our cyber problems behind for two perfectly peaceful days. 


I came back refreshed. Kind of like rebooting my mental computer. Cybercrime isn’t going to go away, nor am I willing to relinquish my online life.


But taking time offline helped me in a way no cybersecurity program ever could. I reconnected to the wilderness. It offers peace without internet.


While I hiked those miles, I knew that my true security is in the One who created all the beauty that was surrounding me. 


Sure, I need to be more aware and do my part to be safe, but like our currency states: In God we trust. And so do I.


Popular posts from this blog

Counting the Cost

Image
Something big is missing in this photo. Let me explain. Here in my hometown, the Lower Elwha Klallam Tribe prepared a parcel of land for a new hotel. Plenty of planning and architectural designs were evaluated. A gemstone of a hotel would be built across from the waterfront—a beautiful, restful place welcoming travelers. A true four-star facility.   They cleared the aging brick structures that had been fading away between Front Street and Railroad Avenue. Then the pandemic hit, shortages of labor and supplies, add in the costly inflation that followed. Everything stopped.   But this is what I admire about the Elwha Tribe: they have counted the cost. They didn’t want to move forward and take on tremendous debt. They would rather move slowly and be financially ready, rather than begin building and then letting it sit unfinished.   Counting the cost is something I should have done earlier in life when I didn’t know what high interest rates would do to our farming costs and bottom l
Read more

Summertime Music

Image
During the summer months, in an outside seating area, a delightfully painted piano sits with a sign that says, “Play me”.   It was just before 8 pm as I walked past the piano. My bus would be arriving soon, and I still have another ten minutes to walk before reaching my bus stop. But no one is around. It’s a beautiful warm evening. I pulled out the piano bench and sat down. The sun was behind me, and the piano keys reflected its glow. I had no music in front of me, only the songs within me. Notes drifted into the air.  In those brief moments, the magic of music and summer came together. Isn’t that how it is? Summertime music has a way of lingering in our minds and lasting a lifetime. As I stood and grabbed my things, I heard distant clapping—I guess I wasn’t alone, after all.
Read more

Homeless Winslow

Image
A while back I found a left-behind sign at my bus stop. No doubt, it’s a “sign” of our times. Then there’s Winslow*—that’s the name I’ve given her because she’s always in downtown Winslow. As far as I know, she’s been homeless for a few years.  She has grocery carts filled with old toys, shoes, clothes, towels, games, and a wild assortment of cast-off stuff she must have collected from the town’s dumpsters. I’m not sure what she does with it all—if anything. But I’ve never seen her beg. Her nightly “home” is adjacent to the town’s post office—it’s a covered spot, so she parks her carts and pulls blankets over herself. That’s usually where I see her on cold, rainy nights. But this week, she was in the post office—the part that’s left open to the public all night. She had a toaster oven plugged in and was re-heating a foil-wrapped item that looked like something the grocery store might have given her.  I needed to mail a package, so I went to the self-serve machine and began pus
Read more