When's the Last Time Someone Had Your Full Attention?

This morning as I sat across from my husband at a nearby breakfast place, I noticed a young girl, probably junior high age. She was holding her phone under the table, busily moving her thumbs around — typing a text, or playing a game. Her eyes downcast.

My husband was talking. I was half-listening, half-watching her. It took me a minute to catch the irony — I was doing to him what she was doing to her Dad. Just with my eyes instead of my thumbs.

An older gentleman, I presume her Dad, sat across from her. At first, he just sat there. Not engaging with her. Not disrupting her either. She continued moving her thumbs busily across the face of her phone. No eye contact except for her phone. A few minutes later, I noticed she had raised her phone above the table, still busily focused on it. Her Dad was now also looking at his phone.

No interaction between the two. Just sitting across from each other, their phones absorbing all their attention.

I assumed they were waiting for their food.

What an opportune time for both of them. For her Dad to ask how her summer was going. For her to know he’d rather be looking at her than his phone. Yet, maybe she didn’t want any of that interaction. Maybe she really only wanted to engage with her phone. I felt bad for the young girl.

I don’t know their stories. I don’t know any background of why it was the two of them sitting across from each other. But it was a lesson in how much our phones have removed us from what matters the most. When I left, she was still on her phone. No food in front of her. The gentleman across from her was eating his breakfast.

It reminded me of how often I just naturally go for my phone when the quiet becomes too loud.

It’s not about winning another game on my phone, building up more credits in my favorite game, getting more likes on social media, or doom scrolling through my Facebook posts.

What matters are the people around me. My husband. My in-laws. My siblings. My neighbors. Those I come in contact with, especially those I see regularly — they are what matters.

A number of years ago, I was running errands with my parents. At this point, my mother was showing the beginning stages of dementia. I pulled into where my mother purchased some of her supplements. She got out to go in and pick up her supplements. I commented to my Dad how much I appreciated him taking care of her as she battled dementia. His comment sticks with me and will for the rest of my life. “When we got married, I committed in sickness and in health that I would stay with her.” His follow-through sticks with me.

If I think back over those that had an impact in my life, it’s not those with the most followers, or most likes. It’s those that were physically within my proximity. My junior high PE teacher and basketball coach. My high school social studies teacher. My college professor. My parents. My aunts and uncles. Those were the ones that impacted my life the most.

Proximity isn’t just who taught you. It’s who stays.

A line from Darius Foroux stayed with me: impact moves through proximity, not popularity. That’s what I saw in Dad’s follow-through. That’s what I felt looking back at my teachers, my parents, my aunts and uncles.

It’s not popularity that creates impact, it’s proximity.

If this piece had you thinking about what actually deserves your attention right now, Your Values, Your Season can help you name it clearly — for the season you're actually in.