Friday, August 17, 2012

Being Seen

I have entirely too many memories of tripping and looking furtively around to see if anyone witnessed it. Once it was marble steps. They had an iron railing I clung to tenaciously, saving my life. At the end of a run, I failed to clear a one inch sidewalk crack. Once it was serious platforms on uneven lawn that took me all the way down. The times I find myself alone, I'd let out my breath in sweet relief.

But I have times, when I'm not falling, that I need to be seen, and it's not when I'm on top of my game. It's when I listen encouragingly to my child's story that goes on and on and on, when I didn't feel like having a conversation in the first place. When I can't take it anymore so I clean out my minivan's crevices by dome light because the sun had the nerve to go down. When I've heard, "Mommy?" a thousand times or been challenged a thousand times or hit dead ends everywhere I turn. I just feel lonely, I guess. I wish someone were around to see how hard I'm trying, understand how tired I am, and get why that seemingly insignificant request is the last straw. I want to be seen. 

That's how staying home and caring for twins felt for me until I read somewhere (I have a hunch it was Captivating by John and Staci Eldredge) that we long to be seen and what we don't realize is, we are. So now, when I'm feeling alone in the drudgery, I think, "I am seen. God sees me. He's watching and understands and is proud." It may seem cliche, but I hope it doesn't. Partly because I hate cliches and partly because I want you to get the same warm feeling when you try it. And it's all through life. I think teachers feel this way, doing remarkable, but hard things in their classrooms, with no critic's eyes to see and commend. Medical staff too, giving optimal care until the last breath, even if it's futile. But I really think the loneliness is just the shadow of a lie. The lie that we are alone and no one understands. So when that lie's about to suck me down, I whisper to myself, "He sees me," and let out my breath in sweet relief. 

1 comment:

  1. This was one of those weeks when I wanted to be seen. When the entire house is a disaster and I haven't made it out of my sweats, but if only someone could see everything else it's taking from me to be what Ian needs in this phase of frustration. Daniel helped get the kids down for a nap yesterday afternoon and let out a sigh of relief when it was done. Just to know he understood in that moment what caring for them 24/7 requires felt validating.

    It feels SO good to be seen and to be seen by Him. Because, truth is, being seen by others just leaves me craving more. I'd rather crave more of Him.