Bless You Auto-Correct

vasectomy For a while now, I've been keeping track of pairs of words that get confused for one another on my iPhone's autocorrect. That is, their letters are oriented on the smartphone keyboard such that you can intend to tap out one word and get the other instead. Of course there are whole sites devoted to autocorrect shenanigans (language advisory). My idea was to write a bunch of couplets using these words someday.

"If" and "of" are the worst offenders, and poor Siri never seems to guess correctly which one I need.

I've also gotten "gun" when I wanted "fun." Trust me, I want way more of the latter in my life than the former.

Some make me smile, like "good" and "food." There's something wonderful about those words being so similar. Food is indeed a pleasure of life and very, very good.

Same with "kiss" and "kids." Don't mind if I do.

How about "shoe" and "show"? I'm not a big shoe person, but I have friends who would book front-row tickets for a shoe show.

I got one today that stopped me in my tracks. I have a friend who is between calls (clergy-speak for jobs) and is taking some time to regroup before the new thing begins. I sent her a text wishing for a time of "restfulness," but it came out "tearfulness."

Whoa, Siri. Whoa.

At first, those things seem totally opposed. But it's true, isn't it, that sometimes we get so busy we don't even have time to feel? Sometimes we do it to ourselves, loading up our schedule with stuff to numb ourselves from feelings of discomfort. (Thank you Brene Brown.) Other times it happens through circumstances beyond our control. My father died 11 years ago while I was preparing to graduate seminary, take a call, sell a house, move to a new city, get ordained, and oh yeah, have my first child. I remember a conscious awareness that much of the grief work was going to have to wait until those big changes were behind me. I moved and was ordained at the beginning of the summer that year, and sure enough, the it all hit in August, when I finally had my feet underneath me. With restfulness came tearfulness... and it was off to the therapist for some much-needed grief work.

How about you? Have you gotten any messages from Siri lately?