hen I was in high school I worked several jobs. The hardest one (not counting my year-long stint at Hadley Farms in Smithburg, Maryland) was selling bagels and sandwiches during the summer at a neighborhood bagel shop. I was at the shop almost full-time hours, coming in around noon and helping close up at 9:30 p.m. A never-ending stream of customers visited the shop until about 8:30 p.m., and we cashiers would have to scurry around in the non-air-conditioned store filling orders and collecting money in an antique cash register. Not only did we serve customers, we had to constantly wipe counters, sweep floors, and rearrange merchandise. Summer in New Jersey can be very hot and humid, add a few ovens to that and the place was stifling. Sometimes it was so hot I could barely count out a person's change. A few times a customer would look askance at me and I'd realize I had given them wrong change, no change, or no bag of bagels. Lifting bins of bagels, making bagel chips, dumping trash, mopping--I could go on with the list of duties, but you get the picture. It was hard, hard work for minimum wage.

During that summer I didn't do much else but work. I'd be too tired in the mornings to do anything but eat a meal. I'd drag myself to church on Sabbath and maybe do something with friends on Saturday night, but that was about it. My life was work at the hot bagel store. Outside of work I was too exhausted to think about things beyond work; and at work I was too hot and tired to think of anything. My relationship with friends and family suffered. So did my relationship with God. A free bunch of bagels at the end of the day was no payment for missed time with Jesus. Frankly, it was a relief when school started again and I quit the job.

When my husband and I were first married, we lived in a tiny one bedroom basement apartment. God blessed us, and within a year we were able to purchase a townhouse. We packed our belongings into a small U-Haul truck and made the cross-town trip to the new place. After unloading everything into the house we stared at each other in amazement. We had so much space!

Family and friends donated an old sleeper sofa, dining room set, and two dressers--and our home still felt cavernous. We never thought we'd outgrow it. Seven years later we have a dog, a baby, and a lot of "stuff"--the once sparsely furnished abode is now cramped and crowded. We recently realized, with no small amount of astonishment, the impact our cluttered home has had on us. As the items in our home grew, so did our irritability--with the state of the house and each other. In addition, my devotional time was sorely affected. Each time I'd sit down to read the Bible or Sabbath school lesson, my mind would wander. I'd think about how I was going to straighten up the basement. I'd find myself staring at an overloaded bookshelf, invariably either wanting to clean it or reread one of the books stored there. I'd remember a pair of boots I saw in a department store sales catalogue. I'd think about the bills that needed paying. Or I'd wonder if we might need another end table in the living room. My little family was overloaded and overwhelmed.

We stopped buying and bringing in furniture, fans, picture frames, nonessential clothing and shoes. In an attempt to de-clutter, this past Christmas season we gave away far more than we received. It not only felt good (relinquishment is better than acquisition!), there's less for us to fold, clean and dust--always a good thing! With more clear space and less time and money being spent on stuff we don't need, our relationship is more peaceful and my devotionals are more rewarding.

During the first few weeks after my daughter was born I watched a lot of TV. Running on fear and adrenaline I would snooze for only a couple hours at a time, and with night feedings it was easy to turn on the tube. It used to be that the major networks would sign off after the late news and a late show--no more. I discovered interesting and entertaining shows on every channel I turned to. And though I was entertained, something happened that surprised me. I felt myself getting dull. That is the only way I can describe it. I was dull. In order to recover some of my mental sharpness I turned off the television and played music. I talked to God. I let the silence seep into my bones--and I began to wind down. The hyper-catatonic paradox I'd been living in ended.

The past year taught me a lot about politics--and the need to periodically shut off the politicians and pundits. With 24-hour news coverage from a variety of sources I learned a lot about school vouchers, the war in Iraq, prescription drugs for seniors, the economy. . . the news surrounding the presidential campaigns and elections was staggering. I learned that the balloons at the Democratic convention failed to drop from the ceiling properly, and that the two women vying for First Lady both wore the same color suit to one of the debates (what a fashion faux pax!).

I also saw images of other newsmakers. Celebrities in the news (such as Martha Stewart, Christopher Reeve, and Britney Spears). News reporters making news (farewell Dan Rather and Peter Jennings). Snakehead fish. Airline troubles. Ukrainian elections. Earthquakes. Tsunami victims. Local teen driving deaths. Serial arson. Global warming. Presidential cabinet resignations. Pharmaceutical removals from market. Baghdad governor assassination. Blogging explosion. Mars rovers . . .

The list is endless. There is, literally, news about everything. And it is all a click away. So easy to access, we become habitual in our desire to know "what's going on," until this quest not only becomes endless, it raises our anxiety--and distracts us.

According to one Web site, http://www.mindful-things.com/psych_news_archive/psych_news_anxiety.html, reducing our exposure to the news will reduce our anxiety (in other words, our lives will be less "noisy"). The report is as follows: Nov. 9, 2001--University of Illinois speech communication professor Dale Brashers says that because of the uncertainty about the dangers of bioterrorism and other terrorist acts, people have become newshounds. They think that reduces uncertainty, but the uncertainty management expert believes that too much information causes greater anxiety, especially if the news is contradictory or unclear, or if it heralds doom and gloom. He recommends people control exposure to news and information, and try to stop themselves from ruminating about the potential threats.

Maybe we should take the advice people have been giving us about children: that we limit their exposure to certain news and information. That we give thought to what is going into their brains, and realize that sometimes ignorance is bliss.