I didn’t start out to make it a penitential act, and I hardly could have chosen a more bearable penance than this one anyway, so I don’t think I get many points for mortification. This past Friday, the second of Lent, I went all day without making physical contact with my cell phone. For some, that might not seem like a big deal, but let me share with you how “connected” I am. I work as chief for a law enforcement agency. Every day I wear, on my belt, my work Blackberry, my two-way radio, my personal Blackberry, a badge, a dangling ID card, a pair of handcuffs, and a pistol. Both my work and personal emails automatically get forwarded to the respective devices, so there is rarely a fifteen-minute interval when my left hip is not being vibrated with the announcement of another piece of information for me to absorb.

Friday, I simply forgot to pick up my phone while I was arming myself for the day, and by the time I got to the office, I realized what I had done. I worried for about two minutes, and then forgot about it. But, as police officers know, when you carry important stuff like a gun around every day, in uniform or in plainclothes, like me, you develop a habit called “indexing your weapon.” It is the unconscious, but regular making physical contact with the weapon, just to make sure it’s still there. It’s a little bit of a paranoid habit, but this is life and death equipment we’re talking about. Usually, I dip my right elbow down and just make contact with the rear of the pistol to prove to myself that it is still there. Incidentally, most cops, when rising from a seated position, unconsciously check for their gun, wallet, and badge case in what probably appears to be a strange slapping of each butt-cheek and elbowing of his own body.

So, I spent a lot of time indexing my missing cell phone and feeling wisps of panic when I felt nothing in its place on my left hip. I did not miss the vibrating reminder that someone had sent me a link to a goofy video or an enlightening article about a recent political development. Not surprisingly, I would find that that all those messages were waiting for me once I got home to my computer that evening. I even seemed a little less stressed-out at the end of the day.

I have a carried a gun to work every day since 1994, and I doubt I would be able to stop indexing my equipment without a lot of effort, or at least a new job.

This experience got me thinking, though, about what other people “index” throughout their days? The most obvious candidate is, of course, the Blackberry or cell phone. I see it on the train I ride everyday that people are talking or texting or checking this or forwarding that. I’m no less guilty, of course, except for this Friday.

I share the love and life of a beautiful and healthy wife who survived open-heart surgery less than two years ago. We have been blessed with four healthy children, and I have a good job in a rough economy. I should not have to index anything but those thoughts and memories to make me feel secure and loved. I will give both of my elbows a break and make a habit out of indexing my left ring finger more often. In the band of gold, which I can always find there, which I have never forgotten to wear to work, I am reminded of the real security that a shared life in Christ provides for every family that takes the time to ask for it. While my elbows are resting, I can make valuable use of two other underused joints to find this treasure, my knees.