In vain, I tried to ignore what was happening on that screen because the man standing up at the pulpit in our church meeting deserved my attention more than the monsters. Ironically, he was speaking of overcoming the demons in our lives. But frankly, his words weren’t as compelling as the screen next to me.

That’s how enticing our cellphones can be. I grew up in an era without them. So having them is a great blessing — and curse. I know what life was like before them, and sometimes look back on it with a shudder, or with longing.

That knowledge offers insight into not only what life was like before cellphones, but also what life should be like with cellphones. The challenge is to prevent them from running our lives — so easy to do because they are so appealing. I struggle daily to command my phone rather than letting it command me. It seems we humans default to letting our phones overtake our attention. This is especially disturbing when human interactions are waylaid because a phone becomes our primary focus.

Restaurants are a fascinating study in this. A few weeks ago, I observed a group of five couples dressed up for prom. Guys in suits and girls in sequin dresses all looked nervously beautiful. The couples lined up at a table — guys on one side seated across from their dates on the other side. Conversation was fun, smiles aplenty and a fun evening promising, except for one young man whose date split her face time between him and her phone. She talked with someone about what they were doing, sent photos of her food and even coaxed her date for a photo of his face. He was clearly embarrassed. So were some of the others in the group for him. I suspect that was her first and last date with him. For his sake, I hope so.

We’ve all observed similar exchanges of couples out for the evening, or even an entire family seated at a table, all focusing on their screens instead of each other, surrendering to their terribly enticing phones the fleeting opportunity to smile with, talk with and discover their loved ones.

Last summer, I watched a young dad at the playground with his daughter. I’m still haunted by the memory of how many times she called out to him while hanging on the bars, climbing up the steps, sliding down the slide and dangling on a swing while she waited for a push that never came. And then she stopped. Because her plea for his attention went unmet enough times, she finally gave up trying to persuade him to give her his eyes and played without him.

That’s exactly why our phone should never replace a face. That’s the way to know when to set it aside. If averting our eyes away from our phone will guide our focus instead to the face of someone who wants, needs, deserves our attention, that’s the moment to pocket the rectangle and begin the interaction, the discovery, the building of that relationship.

Because, “I wish I would have spent more time on my phone and less time focusing on my family and friends,” said no one, ever.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.