I am beginning to notice what I notice. Wherever I am -- in the car, in a store, at the church building, at home, in a restaurant -- I hear the small electronic noises. Ringtones are ubiquitous. Every object that harnesses electrons seems to beep: cameras, washing machines, french fry cookers, cash registers, old fashioned telephones, iPads, laptops, alarm systems.
I notice those beeps. It might be for me. Maybe it's my phone.
OK, worse case: If I don't get to my phone quickly enough, it goes to voicemail. I'll get the message. The urgency of those beeps has nothing to do with their importance. But I hear them. At some level, I must be listening for them.
But there are other things I need to tune in to: facial expressions, tones of voice, the details of my daughter's day, crickets singing, squirrels talking, the quiet of the early morning. If I miss those things, they don't go to voicemail. I may miss the message forever.
And often those messages are more important.