Invisible - Thoughts on Seeing and Being Seen

I woke this morning out of an intense dream. I was in a room, with a few other people, and I was focusing on one person in particular – a friend who’s just returned from a mission trip to Asia. I wanted to hear about his trip. But what was really important to me in the moment was that he know that he was being heard and seen – that I wanted to hear not just the stories, but his heart. And everything about my response to him was working to communicate that. I sat patiently. I made eye contact. I asked questions, and listened, and waited for him to find the words to respond. I wanted him to know that he was being seen.

And then I woke, slightly confused. The friend I dreamt about is not one I would likely ever have that conversation with. He lives in another province, and we are friends in the sense that we attended the same church for several years (until he and his wife moved, and I left), and had conversations – but not in the deep heart sharing sense of the word friends.

And as I lay in bed, talking with Jesus and letting the dream simply wash over me (so much nicer when the dreams come on weekends, and I can take a few minutes to process them, instead of carrying their weight with me as I rush into my day) I realized how deeply I feel about this idea of seeing and being seen.

I have spent many years perfecting the art of invisibility – particularly in settings that involve large groups of Christians. I was always so different from those I was with, that I worked to not be noticed – to blend into the background. I hid my intelligence, my passions, my giftings – sometimes even from myself. And, to be honest, I think I even started to believe that I really was invisible – I was not seen, and therefore I had no worth.

As I thought about that concept, another friend came to mind. A dear friend. Perhaps what I appreciate most about her is that long before we became friends, she “saw” me. She went out of her way to greet me at church. If we were doing a group activity (I remember one particularly goofy one where we were supposed to find someone we’d not talked with very much and tell what our favorite childhood games were) she would occasionally seek me out. She made a point of letting me know that she saw me. When we finally found ourselves sitting next to each other in a pub after church one Sunday night, and beginning to share stories it was incredible. There, in that smoky, dimly lit pub, we bonded over stories of redemption. Later, we both admitted that we’d wanted to get to know the other for quite some time – I think she told me that I “seemed like someone who would have deep and beautiful things going on under the surface.”

And here’s something to admit – when someone begins to “see” me, I can quickly become selfish with their attention. I can demand it, and fail to “see” them, in return. This tends to mellow, as the relationship grows, but is a tendency I work to curb. I love to talk about myself – I notice this particularly in contexts where I am teaching. I am more and more conscious of the fact that instead of really listening to the students and young adults in the Sunday school class or Bible study that I teach, I am planning my next statement, telling my own story. I thought about that as I sat and taught this morning – a lesson on Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night “you must be born again.” I wanted to answer some of the questions I was posing to my students – to jump in with a fantastic story or point. Today, I somehow managed to successfully fight the urge, and I’m so glad I did. The answers grew deeper and more revealing as I looked at each girl as she shared. They let me into their lives in ways they probably wouldn’t have if I’d jumped in told a story or made a point.

These last months I have begun to “see” things more deeply again. Often I “see” things that are not immediately obvious on the surface. It’s a bit of a weird space to occupy. And yet, as I’ve begun to see more deeply, I’ve also struggled far more deeply with feeling invisible than I have in quite some time – ironic, because for maybe the first time in my life I am walking closely in relationship with several dear friends, and know on a deep heart level that I am not alone – that I am seen and that I am loved.

Here’s what I took from my crazy morning dream. I want to work on being a person who really “sees” others. I want to listen more and talk less. I want to hear the things that are being said, as well as the things that aren’t (which are sometimes far more revealing of the person, wouldn’t you agree?). I want to be a person who sees and listens and talks to Jesus about the things she sees and hears.

And yes, I want to be seen – to know that others see and hear the deep places within me, and that in spite of the flaws (like self-centeredness at times) they love and value me.

But truth – I think that it is more important to be a person who sees, than a person who is seen. Because a person who sees invariably invites others to see as well.

mis-matched

Have you ever had a day when your insides and outsides just didn't quite match?

I'm having one today.

My outsides look good - I know this because I spent quite a bit of time on my appearance this morning, styled my hair, put on makeup, and nice, new clothes - a cute outfit I picked up last night. I received several compliments on how I looked at church this morning.

However, my insides don't match.

Today I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm fighting with anger. I'm overthinking. I'm resenting things that I shouldn't. I'm working to avoid the internal workings of my soul. I'm quite frankly harboring a bad mood.

I am having a difficult time making a decision that will affect a large portion of the next two years of my life. It's in moments like this that I desperately want to go back to being a child - to having someone else be responsible for these decisions.

I need to do some writing. I've needed to do it since this morning. I'm avoiding it. On days like this I'm big on escapism. I work to avoid delving into the deeper parts of myself. Sometimes I'm afraid of what I'll find.

I'm bribing myself with chocolate to get the writing done. A ferrero rocher if I finish this blog post - the first piece of writing I need to get done. A kit-kat bar (my favorite) if I actually sit and do the other.

I think I'm also going to bake cookies tonight. My grandma's recipe. Chocolate chunk. So good.

Okay... that's it for now... my first piece of chocolate has now been earned!

after dreaming

It's strange to me sometimes, that early morning space, the moments when you have time to wake slowly, and pause and let the dreams from the night bleed into the daylight hours.

That happened this morning, and led me to pray. It also means that I need to find space later to write. There is something that feels deep and heavy on my heart after the dreams, that I need to write down.

so, until later...