Two weeks ago, our TV died on us. One day it was doing fine, and the next, it was out, gone, refusing to be revived, lifeless, dead. It was a sad day.
I remember the day well. It was a Saturday morning and the husband and I were getting ready for our Saturday morning ritual of breakfast in front of the TV, watching Rachael Ray or whatever it was that made it onto the programme schedule. We had our bee hoon ready in front of us, I reached for the remote, and…wait a min…nothing’s appearing! Maybe it’s the remote. I move to the TV and press the power button…still nothing. Nothing’s appearing. Press again. Nothing’s appearing. NOTHING’S APPEARING!!! Not to over exaggerate, but I did feel a moment of panic, coz what was I to do for the entire weekend without any TV to watch!?
Cut to the following Monday. We were on a full-on TV fast. We hadn’t gotten ourselves a new TV yet, despite the “slight” panic attack on Saturday because we decided to be prudent and shop around a little more to get the best deal. We’re both back from work, dinner’s served and we’re both sitting on the floor, huddled around our tiny coffee table, ready for our TV dinner—only the TV’s not working. So, we had dinner—and conversation about something other than the evil mother-in-law on KBS world who was trying to get rid of her son’s wife. Conversation extended beyond dinner, and beyond what happened at work that day. We talked about other things, plans for next year, dreams about the far future—the sort of things usually reserved for weekend talk. Soon, we were ready to sleep. At 10pm! I know I’m an early sleeper, but c’mon, 10pm is still pretty darn early.
The rest of the week, we continued to huddle around our tiny coffee table for dinner without TV. When it came time to wash up, we didn’t procrastinate because Parenthood or NCIS or CSI weren’t there to distract us. And then, something wonderful happened. We found time to read. Imagine that! Read on a weekday night! We could take our time with the Word, not feeling the need to squeeze in as much as possible before my tired eyes betrayed me and closed for the night. And after spending time in His Word, I had extra time and energy to spend in other people’s words—stories waiting to be read beside my bed. And I didn’t even have to hurry through the chapters. I could afford to take my time—a slow amble through pages of words, in His presence, even if they weren’t His words. It was lush! And if we still had time, the husband and I would talk while staring at the whirling ceiling fan until we fell asleep. We always woke up fresh.
This going cold-turkey was doing me some good. It was doing us some good. I didn’t even care that our TV was not working. “Let’s not get a TV for the next month!” I said. I finally understood what Pastor meant when he talked about fasting not being something about enforcement, but about being caught up in something else, something better. Someone better.
Well, we had guests come over and apparently, hosting a gathering with no TV is a no-no in the hostess-with-the-mostest handbook, so said the husband. So, we bought a TV. We’ve resumed our TV dinners. Still, I try to remind myself to tear myself away sometimes. After all, I’ve tasted of something better.
