Before my venture into cyber-space, I was very skeptical, even fearful, of technology. When my husband started telling me we needed a computer, I hemmed and hawed.

A computer? I'll destroy it! I don't know one thing about computers. They're too complicated," I insisted. But since we have young children, I eventually caved. I might be living in the dark ages, but it was my responsibility to see they understood the world of modern technology.

Little did I know the very computer I argued against would reunite me with my mother and grandmother after years of estrangement! It would change my life, forever.

After connecting the last cable, and dutifully reading the manuals (written in Greek or something equally unintelligible to me), I was surprised at how quickly I mastered the basics of our PC. It all seemed self-explanatory.

The little messages saying I had performed an "illegal operation" alarmed me at first, but I soon figured out it was about the same as ripping a tag off a mattress. It's called illegal, but charges are never pressed, thank goodness.

It wasn't long before I had Internet software installed, and I heard that chirping, buzzing, joyous sound of online connection. I was hooked up to the net, and in two short months I was literally "hooked" to the net. Total addiction over-ran my life!

Unlike others, surfing was hardly a thought. It was email that lured me. No stamps, no envelopes, no hassle! I loved it. Every relative was bombarded with messages. I soon learned to festoon them with emotions galore.

I LOL'd, IMO'd, and sideways smiled with the best of them. I emailed virtual flowers, e-cards, and sent links. And then I learned how to use search engines.

My mother, a fairly well known author in the field of alcohol and drug addiction and recovery, had a web page, and I found it. Due to a family disagreement, my mother and I hadn't spoken in ten long years. It was eerie to find that page. Strange to see a picture of the face I'd grown up with, there on her webpage. She didn't look different. Those were her laugh lines crinkled at the edge of her eyes. That was her smile, still so etched in my mind.

The rift between us seemed not so impossible somehow, seeing that picture. That little link to her email, on the bottom of her page beckoned me, and before I knew what I was doing I clicked it.

That first email was stiff and stilted, commenting about something on her page. It was not decorated with cheerful emotions, or saucy in humor. But it was a start.

She wrote back, and I replied, and soon we were emailing regularly. The stiffness and anger faded eventually to forgiveness. We each saw the wrongs we'd both committed against each other and asked forgiveness.

Then something found its way into the messages that I had missed for ten long years. Love. The bond between mother and daughter had been ignited once more.

I described in detail her three grandchildren: Michael, age five; David, age three; and Chrissy, a three-month-old babe. My mother had only seen pictures of them through other family members.

I described them to her now. How they smiled. Their fears, and their joys. Their distinct and marvelous personalities. When they said something funny, I would type it in an email and send it to her, introducing her to their charm, and the sheer miracle of their existence.

She jotted off details of my childhood, tidbits I had forgotten. Funny stories to tell my children someday. Over a distance of 2,000 miles, she was getting to know her grandchildren, and reacquainting herself with me.

One day, an email arrived saying she was coming for a visit, if that was okay. Tears streaming down my face, I typed my reply, "Yes, come. The kids would love to see you. I would love to see you."

She came. She saw for herself all the details I'd written about my children. She held them in her arms, and smelled their hair. She hugged me, and met the man of my dreams, my husband.

While she was visiting, we wrote to my grandmother. Growing up, I hadn't known my grandmother very well. My mother and she had also been estranged. Funny how generations repeat themselves sometimes.

Gradually we began an email relationship, and now we converse regularly, spanning the miles and the lost years with the click of a send button. She has a sense of humor I adore, and her wit is razor sharp. I'm proud to call her Grandma. Even prouder that she calls me granddaughter.

I hear all the time that the internet is full of garbage and sex. I would say yes, if you are looking for it. But the internet is also full of rewarding experiences for those with the courage to take them.

It is a resource for finding lost relatives, educating your children, learning the wonderful diversity of humanity, and most importantly to me, keeping touch with family and friends. Don't fear this technology. Embrace the good in it!

I smile now to think I almost argued my husband out of this computer. It's one argument I'm glad I lost. The funny thing is, my husband rarely uses the computer. But I'm fairly sure I've made good use of it. My mother and Grandmother agree.