Some Things Never Change

Remember The Jetsons? They were the space-age antithesis to The Flintstones (the “modern stone-age family”). Both were cartoon series created in the 1960s for prime-time television. Family life has always made for good stories in any era.

The Jetsons, a futuristic family, had a household full of quirky technology. Their flying car folded down into a briefcase. George carried it with him as he traveled along the moving sidewalk to his office, where he used a sophisticated computer. At home, his wife Jane loved to chat with her friends face to face on a flat screen device. Rosie, the robot housekeeper, operated fantastic appliances. Cleaning was done in an instant and food prepared in seconds. Son Elroy played video games. Daughter Judy had a digital diary.

It was all very entertaining and wildly far-fetched. Never did I dream that in my lifetime such conveniences would actually become the norm. It’s 2020. No flying cars yet, but there are autonomous vehicles, robots to keep your floors clean and microwaves to cook food in minutes. A plethora of social media platforms provide instant communication across the globe. Face to face video chats are easy through programs like Skype or Facetime. My smart phone holds more information than a room full of books.

Then there’s the world of medical technology. CTs, PET scans, MRIs, ultrasound. It’s possible to examine the human brain while the patient is still alive. And who could have imagined the capability to look inside the womb and watch a baby develop, from soon after conception all the way through gestation! That’s the world we live in.

Tiny perfect miracle

Last summer our daughter, Jessica and son-in-law Graham, announced they were expecting a baby this spring (our seventh grandchild). A few months later, an ultrasound revealed this was a baby boy. Number seven now had a name – Emmett. Subsequent scans, measurements and markers indicated he was on track to be born early in March. But no technology is foolproof.

Late one evening, nearly three weeks before the due date, Jessica called to say her water had broken. By 3:30 a.m. I was on my way to Guelph to take care of big brother RJ, while his parents headed to the hospital.

A few hours later a sleepy smile spread across RJ’s face as he awakened. “Nana!” he said, “Are you here for the baby?” I nodded.

“Really?!” he said, sitting straight up.

I told him his mom was in the hospital already and the baby was on the way. “But this might take all day,” I cautioned.

Nanas aren’t always right either. Within an hour the text message came, complete with picture: “8:33 a.m. – healthy baby boy!”

That afternoon we met Emmett face to face. RJ marvelled at his baby brother’s sweet countenance, soft skin and delicate fingers. What could be more delightful than holding a newborn? No high-tech gadget compares to a tiny, perfect miracle – a life that began and will endure for precisely the time that the Lord has ordained. Amazing.

I wonder how technology will progress through Emmett’s lifetime. What science fiction will become household reality by the time he has children of his own? What stories will he tell about how the world has changed since he was born? It’s fun to speculate.

My prayer for this little one, and all my grandchildren, is that their hearts will open, at an early age, to the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever. The One who loves them like no one else can. Some things never change. Thank the Lord.

What about you?

The next issue of CC will focus on faith & technology, as this columnist has done. What role has technology played in your family’s life, and has that changed during the COVID-19 pandemic? Send your thoughts to [email protected]