There are a few things in life that fuel me more than anything: being in nature and being at a live concert. In each of these settings, I feel most alive. Most at peace. Most hopeful about the world. A little over a week ago, I got to see one of the most talented musicians of our time, Ed Sheeran. I’d been looking forward to the concert for months. I’d listened to his album on repeat while writing my second book, Hands Free Life. Attending his concert was the perfect way to celebrate the book's recent publication.
Happily nestled between my husband and one of my best friends, I surveyed the diverse crowd. From the animated teenagers behind us to the grandfatherly men across the aisle, Ed Sheeran fans stood for the entire concert and and sang along to all the lyrics.
I couldn’t help but notice there was a distinct difference between the way the younger generation viewed the concert and the way the thirty-and-over crowd viewed it. One saw the concert through a screen; the other did not. Although I was trying to immerse myself in the moment at hand, my eyes kept being pulled to the white light coming from the hands of the young couple in front of us. In the glow of a palm-sized screen, I could see the young lady’s beautiful face. Her long brown hair with honey blonde highlights made me think of my twelve-year-old daughter. I couldn’t help but wonder what my daughter’s future dates would look like … what her conversations would entail … where her most alive moments would be found in about ten years.
These questions have stuck with me, and I’ve been giving them a lot of thought. I feel quite an urgency, a panic even, for preservation. I’m afraid the abundance, ease, and social acceptance of technology are threatening certain life experiences to the point of extinction. Like the seldom seen pay phone and rarely used digital camera, life’s most simple, yet most meaningful experiences, could easily diminish with my daughter’s generation.
My wishes for my child when she was born included being anything she wanted to be and living a long, prosperous life. While those wishes are still valid, there are now some wishes far less complicated, but absolutely critical–and it makes me cry even to type this. I want her to live. I want her to experience life with all her senses. I want her to experience life in living color, face to face, with two open hands. I have wishes for my child growing up in a text-happy, vitamin D deficient, connection-starved culture. These wishes are simple, but they are rich. These are for you, my brown eyed beauty with honey highlights, whose smartphone lays unattended for now.
My Wish for You: A Living Life
I wish you crickets that lull you to sleep.
I wish you pumpkin guts oozing through your fingers.
I wish you the most perfect S’more stick you can find.
I wish you the ability to be alone with your thoughts.
I wish you the feeling of someone’s hand in your back pocket.
I wish you shade from a Weeping Willow tree.
I wish you goodbye kisses and puppy dog fur.
I wish you moments of complete silence.
I wish you fresh squeezed lemonade made by your hands.
I wish you spontaneous gatherings where no one wants to leave the table.
I wish you porch swings and bare feet.
I wish you sea air breezes.
I wish you playing cards that slide from your fingers in a triumphant hand.
I wish you historic monuments and sunsets that make you feel small.
I wish you books in bed.
I wish you peace.
I wish you answers without Google.
I wish you mindless wandering with a good old-fashioned map.
I wish you boredom that leads to the best ideas you’ve ever had.
I wish you starry nights.
I wish you window watching from the subway, wondering what’s his story.
I wish you talented street musicians who make you stop and stare.
I wish you flowers from Pike Place Market that brighten your day.
I wish you joy.
I wish you laughter from a small child that makes you look up.
I wish you wrinkled hands to embrace you and share stories of long ago.
I wish you handwritten notes in your mailbox.
I wish you a chance to heal a broken soul.
I wish you memories and someone who holds the door for you.
I wish you smiles that are not for public consumption.
I wish you travels without chargers and safety worries.
I wish you freedom.
I wasn’t quite finished with my list—there were more wishes. But something happened. My daughter asked me if we could go to the “rock river”. I’d been taking my daughters there for over a year since we moved to our new city. Mother Nature had given me peace in the midst of book writing and settling into a new life. “Rock river” was my refuge.
“But this time, Mama,” my daughter said, “I want to invite my friend.”
I was surprised. It was usually just us.
“She’s been looking really sad,” my child explained. “I’ve asked her what is wrong, but she’s not ready to talk about it. I thought maybe going to the river would help. It is so peaceful there. I always feel better after I collect rocks.”
As I looked into those big brown eyes, I felt as if one of my wishes had just come true and maybe I didn’t need to keep adding to the list. As she ran off to invite her friend, I realized life experiences do not have to diminish with each new version of the iPhone. Human connection does not have to weaken as the need for WiFi grows. The electronic screen does not have to become a substitute for life’s richest experiences—not if we pass down the tradition to live …
She can inherit my love for baking if I invite her into the kitchen.
She can inherit my need for walking outdoors if I ask her to join me.
She can inherit my thirst for authentic conversation if I open up and give her time to talk.
She can inherit my love for music if I take her to concerts and listen to what she likes.
She can inherit my places of refuge if I take her to wade in the river.
She can inherit life’s richest experiences if wishes become invitations.
So let’s keep wishing—it’ll keep us intentional.
Let’s keep living—it’ll keep us alive.
Let’s keep inviting—it’ll keep our precious children from fading into the light.
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Friends of The Hands Free Revolution, I am grateful for those who have reached out while reading HANDS FREE LIFE to let me know the difference one of the 9 habits is having on your life. In light of today’s blog post, please note that Chapter 7 describes practical ways to empower children to make smart, safe, healthy, and informed decisions about their digital lives. Chapter 8 reveals a collection of meaningful rituals that would make life-giving gifts to pass on to your loved ones. I love how Kristi specifically mentions her connection-staved soul in this beautiful Amazon review:
“Reading Hands Free Life has been both freeing and revealing. I have been suffering from a ‘connection-starved soul’, and the pressure to ‘do’ had become overwhelming, robbing me of the chance to really enjoy life’s sacred moments. Since reading, I have been trying with intention to disconnect a little more each day from whatever it is that fills my mind, day, and even life with clutter. We live in a world in which we face a distraction almost non-stop. This book has given me practical ways to recognize that and to actually do something about it. I highly recommend this book to women, men, parents, non-parents, book clubs, Bible study groups, anyone and everyone. The message presented within these pages is life-changing.” –Kristi D
Thanks to all who have taken time to leave a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Goodreads. It is one of the greatest gifts you can give an author. I am really looking forward to seeing my Canadian friends on Wednesday, September 30. I’ll be doing a Question & Answer session with brilliant parenting educator Andrea Nair and signing copies of Hands Free Life at Chapters at One Square Mall, 189 Rathburn Road, Mississauga at 7pm.
If you like the LIVE HANDS FREE bracelet worn by my daughter and me in today's post, they have been reduced in price this week only. This includes the ONLY LOVE TODAY & I CHOOSE LOVE bracelets, as well. Bracelets can be cut to fit small wrists for children & teens. Click here to shop. Thank you for walking beside me on this journey! I am incredibly grateful for you!
Just lovely Rachel. And may we also wish these things for ourselves, as well as our children. Please, once again, send these beautiful words right back to yourself.
I wish you laughter from a small child that makes you look up.
I wish you wrinkled hands to embrace you and share stories of long ago.
I wish you handwritten notes in your mailbox.
I wish you a chance to heal a broken soul.
Hi Julie – thank you for always thinking of the writer behind the words. It means so much that you care about me. I wrote each line from my own list of favorite experiences. The first one was my nephew’s laugh. He always makes me look up when he laughs. My grandmother’s hands were the second line. I would do anything for her hug & hear her stories today. I love when I see a letter from my mom or dad in the mailbox. My dad still uses a black felt tip pen just like when he was a professor. And the last one was written because of the beautiful messages I receive each day from readers of this blog. I am blessed to be the messenger.
And yet, I wouldn’t have read this if I weren’t on my screen.
Irony.
I’ll just hope you weren’t reading this on your screen with your children present and begging for your attention. I fear the point of this post has been missed.
Thank you, Jodie, for understanding the heart of this post. I am grateful for your presence on this journey.
Your poem/list wish is so beautiful but the apprehension and sadness behind it is real. I feel a sense of loss about what my children will not experience, the mystery and anticipation of opening the package of freshly developed photos, talking on phones instead of texting, faces buried in screens. Yet mine is sometimes buried too, but if I heed your wisdom, from your books and posts, and model living fully and in the moment, choosing not to automatically capture and post, that will help my whole family. I love that you have rock beach, and that your daughter is sharing it with her friends.
“If I model living fully and in the moment, choosing not to automatically capture and post, that will help my whole family.” I truly believe this is true. I truly do. I am seeing it play out in my life today. There is still hope. So much hope. Thank you, Dana, for this beautiful contribution to today’s post and for being such an incredible supporter and believer in living our days fully.
These are wishes for all of us- not just small ones! Thank you for the reminders❤️
So, so true. I took a bike ride with my younger daughter yesterday and told her something I’d told her sister, but not her. I said, “I have to be outside everyday for at least a little while or I don’t feel right.”
She said, “I didn’t know that. I like being outside too. Maybe I will be the same way.”
Kids do not have to miss out on the simple things as long as we choose to share them…this weekend my daughter and her friend had the best time “mining” for gems and rocks at an outdoor place called Prarie Gardens. And we enjoyed their faces as their eyes lit up each time they added to their collection .
I love your list. I just might have to make one for my own daughter.
I wish for her campout in the backyard.
I wish for her smiles at the nursing home.
I wish for her joy in knowing that you have made someone’s life better,
Dear Rachel, As I started to read your post today about the concert. I knew what you were going to say the moment you said it. There is soooo much missed in an experience when the iphones are glaring around you. I once went to see Seals & Crofts when I was 15 at Ocean Grove Auditorium (look it up when you like… a wonderful place that has few rock bands… but S & C were mild for the time… ) When the band first came on all of the lights were out, except for the exit lights, and all of a sudden … a shining glittering ball that left flickering lights all over like diamonds was turned on… and the song Diamond Girl came on… it was like being in an ocean of stars… I can still feel what it was like and see it in my mind…. it would have been ruined by iphones. (Now they call it a disco ball… but that night it was diamonds)… and the whole performance was magical (not in a bad way) … people listened to details and paid attention… and yes we sang and clapped and swayed and danced but it was not chaotic… it was a beautiful night of joy. I am 57… and it could have happened yesterday. Technology has its place, but there are sooo many places it is better without it. We must invite them in to real letters and real food and real books and real photographs (cause one wrong move and you can lose hundreds) … some things about the past were better. Just as some new things might be better (although I haven’t found many yet 🙂 Face to face conversation. Reading out loud even now. Listening to music without always having to be doing or texting , etc. And real old fashioned photography…that is an art that we must not let die. Thank you for your writings Rachel… I just bought Hands Free Life… loving it !!!
Nature and rock concerts–those are where I feel most alive as well!
Concerts–whether in an arena, an outdoor festival, or at the library–have been important bonding experiences with each of my children. There is nothing like the energy in the air and that feeling of being in the moment with artist and audience.
That’s why I don’t understand the iPhones at shows; the grainy video that results never captures what occurred that night.
Thank you so much for this post. I was just saying to my husband last night that I am sad for what my children may not experience. I am saddened that I cannot just let them outside to roam the streets and trails and creeks the way I did as a child. Sometimes I feel that is the root of our screen driven life-we keep them inside because we can’t let them go out and explore on their own.
Thank you so much for your blogs and books. You have changed my life and hopefully that of my three daughters!
We are happier than ever before because I and able to stop for Sunset Moments, and listen, really listen, to what these precious 8 year old children have to tell me. We laugh more, dance more, pray more, love more, smile more, and we do it all Hands Free!!
I am now leading a book club with your “Hands Free Mama” book, and we an on doing “Hands Free Life” next.
With much gratitude,
Harriet
Oh dear Harriet, thank you for these SOUL BUILDING words you have just gifted to me. I have read your beautiful comment three times and I will probably read it at least a dozen more. I needed this fuel today. My writer’s heart is a little weary … a little tired … a little down lately. I thank you for taking the time to tell me my words are making a difference. It means everything.
Oh my goodness, I feel honored that you even had the time to read my comment, and then REPLY! Thank you and please know I meant every single word. And, I know MANY mamas that feel the same way, so know that you are making a HUGE difference to many families daily. One of my triplets said to me the other night, after we had a living room dance party, “Are you still reading that ‘Hands book’ because you are so much fun now”! Wow, talk about Soul Building words (:
Thanks again!
I loved this post and the beautiful way you summed up the parental urge to keep our children’s attention on everything *but* the glowing white light. I’ll remember this line for as long as I try to do that with my child:
“She can inherit life’s richest experiences if wishes become invitations.”
Hi Rachel – I love this post! I often think of this at any kind of preschool or school activity, where all the parents are viewing the concert/show/etc. through a viewfinder to take a video rather than just sitting and watching. I know that there will be treasured memories in video later, but I hope not to sacrifice enjoying the moment for those video memories. I haven’t finished it yet, but absolutely loving the new Hands Free Life. I really appreciate the way you wind your faith in God into the stories in a way that is meaningful and real! Thank you for all of your writing, it is such a gift and treasure!
An uplifting and much needed post today as a reminder that life’s most precious moments are in fact the simplest moments spent with our children! Every single one of your posts are uplifting! Every single one of your posts are gentle, friendly reminders to live simple and simply live with our children! I shed tears both inside and out as I read your beautiful words of wisdom and truth! I shed tears of joy! And, I shed tears of sadness! I, too, am a mother of a 12-year old daughter! It’s not easy being a mother in today’s society! But, because of you and your amazing Hands Free revolution, I am learning how to stop, slow down, listen and spend time with my daughter! You are a true gift and blessing!! Thank You!!
I’m a grandmother who recently drove all night in a rental car from an airport 7 hours to home when a series of flight delays threatened to keep me from my granddaughter’s kindergarten promotion ceremony. Folks at home were ready to “record” the program for me so I could watch it later…but that would never have been enough. I wanted my little grandgirl to be able to make eye contact with me and smile and know that there was nowhere in the world I’d rather be at that moment than soaking up her joy and accomplishment, hands-free and heart open. Thank you, Rachel, for so beautifully expressing the longings of a 60-something for a way to include my special littles, and their bigs, in the moments that matter. “Real time” can mean so much more than we allow it to mean.
I never understood real love till I became a mother. I remember my own Mom so invested in my dreams and fears. Now I understand that, having kids of my own. Their hopes are your hopes. You can’t help but wish the very best for them.