By Jennifer Jester-Madrigal

Hey, you! You over there with the phone in your hand, getting ready to take your hundredth selfie with your kids playing at the park…it’s time to put the phone down and really look around.

You see that old man over there walking his dog, bent over from years of arthritis but still smiling? He’s looking around, hoping that someone takes the time to stop and say hello to him and maybe engage in a little conversation. Bet you didn’t know that he served in two wars, or that he married the love of his life when he was 22, and is the father to six children and 13 grandchildren. Or did you know that his beloved wife, Rose, died last year and that he has been lost every since.

How could you know? You were too busy trying to get that next selfie, busily rearranging your kids’ hair and clothing, and sucking in your gut so that the picture looked as good as it possibly could. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with selfies (if you know me, you know that I enjoy annoying people by forcing them to selfie with me), but there is something wrong, when as a culture we no longer see what is around us.

We are the “Gotta Have It All NOW!” generation and not only do we have to have it now, we want the best of it, and we think we deserve the best. We seek out the best and the most current technology and then take photos of ourselves enjoying it as a way of showing the social media world that we matter.

Our worth is, in essence, tied to our value on social media. Do you ‘Like’ me? Facebook and Instagram have become the “highlight reels” of our lives and others compare their lives to our “best of” moments.

What they don’t see are the tear stained pillows, the loud fights, the struggling addicts, or the sense of loss that so many people hide. Often, we hide ourselves behind the filtered lens of the camera, choosing how we can filter our lives to hide our flaws. Is it a Sepia day, a Valencia day, or maybe even a Sierra filter kind of day?

Perhaps in 2015, we will put the phone away for a day, stop capturing every moment, and instead take the time to walk our chubby little toddler over to the old man sitting by himself and say hello.

I challenged myself to this a few weeks ago and walked over to an older man walking his dog by himself. I was walking with my clapping, flapping, autistic, deaf son, Nicholas, desperately trying to tire him out so he’d sleep through the night. Walter was trying to do the same with his spunky puppy. So we walked together, his arthritic gait matched Nicholas’ developmentally delayed gait. He held on to his puppy’s leash to keep her safe just as I held on to Nicholas to keep him safe. We walked and we talked and he told me stories and we shared our sadness over losing those we loved so much.

Walter may be about 50 years older than me, but we have a lot in common and I never would have known that if I didn’t get out of my bubble. For Christmas, I brought him cookies and Oreo balls, and he proposed to me in return. I had to let him down gently, as he’s much too handsome and wild for me, but I gained a great friend.

I got out of my bubble, put my phone down and walked a little walk with a new buddy, and I’m all the better for it.