Unrecognizable

My iPhone does not recognize my fingerprint.
I followed all the directions.
I successfully added fingerprint one and fingerprint two.
It worked for a while and then it stopped recognizing it.

I cannot figure it out.
I has been annoying.
It is not that I am lazy.
It is just that feature works for everyone else in my family.

I simply got used to typing my password.
The more I used the wallet option on my phone, the more I wanted it to be different.
I would be in line at the store with the red bullseye.
I would attempt to pull up my wallet on my phone and it would not work.

There were so many steps.
It was easier to just pull out my credit card and insert the chip in the card reader.
It was the principle of the thing.
The fingerprint option should work, but it did not work for me.

I had my iPhone for four years.
It was time to get a new one.
I never like to get the newest phone as soon as it comes out.
I like to see the reviews and hope that any bugs or glitches have been fixed.

After a search, I decided on the phone I wanted.
My husband ordered it online.
The most important feature for me was that the phone have face recognition.
My oldest daughter has that feature and loves it.

The phone came in a few days.
The new phone is bigger than my old phone.
There was a small learning curve; swiping up instead of down.
Discovering the new way to turn the phone off completely.

I was amazed at the face recognition technology.
I had to allow the camera to scan my face as I moved it according to the directions.
It was scanning my face at all different angles.
Finally, the scan was completed; my face, and only my face, opens my phone.

I was so excited.
I simply pick up the phone and look at it and my face is recognized.
Everything opens literally with a glance.
So easy and so precise.

The real test would be when I went to the store and attempted to pay with my phone.
I was at the register and got out my phone.
I held it before my face and nothing happened.
My face was not recognized.

You’ve got to be kidding, I said to myself.
Until I realized the reason why I was unrecognizable.
I was wearing a mask.
I did not have a mask on when the camera scanned my face.

Without thinking, I lifted my mask off one ear.
As soon as I did that, the phone opened up.
I was able to do all that I needed to do.
I just had an extra step because my face was covered.

I thought about the incident as I walked to my car.
It didn’t recognize me, I thought, treating my phone as if it could see me.
A sadness came over me.
No one recognizes each other any more.

We are walking around incognito.
We are walking around with half of our face covered.
We are not even recognized by our phones.
We do not recognize each other.

I thought about recognition.
I thought about how we are actually hiding under a piece of fabric.
We are doing this out of necessity.
Yet a bit of ourselves is lost.

I know my phone is an inanimate object.
However, technology, though advanced, could not discern the difference.
Objects cannot reason.
Objects cannot make inferences.

Yet, here we are.
Hidden under a mask.
Unrecognizable.
Incognito.

Masks are becoming a fashion statement.
People are matching their masks to their outfits.
On some level, I understand why they are doing that.
There is a need to be unique, a need to express ourselves even through a piece of fabric.

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:29-31)

My iPhone did not recognize my face when I was wearing my mask.
My iPhone does not know me; it cannot know me.
But I am known.
Every hair on my head is numbered.

I was fearfully and wonderfully made.
So were you.
I was knitted together; intentionally, carefully, and lovingly.
So were you.

You cannot hide from God.
You are never unrecognizable to God.
You are seen; you are known.
You are loved.

2 responses to “Unrecognizable”

1. Thanks for this reminder Gina

   Reply

   • You’re welcome, Paula.
     I needed the reminder, too.
     Gina

     Reply