Our family had one simple dinner rule: no phones. It was our time to disconnect from the world and reconnect
with each other. But last night, that rule was tested.
Halfway through the meal, my husband’s phone lit up. He ignored it at first, but the buzzing kept coming—again and again.
Finally, he checked it, and his expression changed instantly. “Oh no! Mom,” he said, jumping from his seat and dialing frantically.
Within seconds, he was on the phone with police, giving his mother’s address before rushing out the door.
I sat frozen, heart pounding, unsure what was happening. When he returned later, his face was filled with relief. His mother’s neighbor had seen smoke
in her kitchen and tried calling repeatedly. Thanks to that neighbor’s quick thinking, the situation was resolved before any harm was done.
That night, our “no phone” rule took on new meaning. We learned that rules are meant to guide, not bind—and sometimes love means breaking them.
Dinner was interrupted, but our connection deepened, reminding us that presence isn’t just
about putting phones down; it’s about being there when it truly matters.