A Certain Roughness

There was a certain roughness on the underside of my watch strap the other night. 

Can’t remember when I was given this particular watch, but I believe it may predate at least some of my kids. So at least a quarter of a century ago. 

Just now I found a bit of the metal bending away from the strap, looking alarmingly as if it could break any minute. Now I know that most 21^st century people with any kind of cachet don’t wear watches. They consult their Smart Phones when they feel the need to check the time. 

But I don’t own a Smart Phone. I prefer to rely on my own brain, whether or not it answers to a similar description. I don’t want my life tied up in a wallet-sized bit of high-tech wizardry which is just waiting to turn itself off, run out of battery, go out of range, or fly out of my pocket and into the hand of a clever thief. 

I’d rather keep my life safe in my head, and the time displayed starkly by itself on my left wrist, as it’s been for decades.

Now I’m slightly anxious lest this bit of low-tech organizational aid slips off into a ditch somewhere. I’ll have to be on my guard, remain super-vigilant.

That certain roughness gave me some warning that something on which I depend might just not be so dependable after all. 

Nothing in this world – high or low-tech, living or mechanical – is completely dependable. Anything might give way or be stolen or hacked or lost or broken at any moment. 

Only God can be trusted to never change. He alone is completely dependable. He is always there for me – whether I’m on time, or running late.