It’s an interesting question because it assumes there are objects that are indispensable. That there are things so essential to my daily rhythm that without them, life would somehow stop.
But the older I get, the less I believe that.
My cellphone is an incredible convenience. It keeps me connected to Daryl, to Lizzi, to Sully. It lets me write, post, photograph a pour, text a friend, check on a student, call a game. But if it disappeared tomorrow, I’d adjust. I’d go back to landlines and handwritten notes and knocking on doors if I had to.
My car? Wonderful. Necessary in Jacksonville, it feels like. But I could ride a bus. I could carpool. I could walk more than I do now.
My laptops—both personal and work—are tools I use every single day. They help me teach, write, research, publish. But if they were gone, I’d go back to pen and paper. I’d draft longhand. I’d find a way.
History is full of people who lived deeply meaningful lives without any of those things.
But love? That’s different.
Without God’s love anchoring me, I’m untethered. Without my family’s love, the victories feel hollow. Without the simple, tail-wagging, unconditional affection of Princess greeting me at the door, the house feels quieter than it should.
Love isn’t a convenience. It’s oxygen.
Saying that reminds me of someone far wiser than I am. In 1 Corinthians 13:1–3, the apostle Paul wrote:
“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal… If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.”
All the gifts. All the knowledge. All the sacrifice.
Nothing without love.
When it comes down to it, objects are tools. Useful. Sometimes wonderful. Sometimes sentimental. But tools all the same. Love is the only thing that makes the tools matter.
And if I’m honest, it’s the only thing I truly can’t live without.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
