Invisible

I know my earlier blog made no sense to anyone but me, but I've been thinking about it all day. I've been thinking about how it feels to have someone know you, but not see who you really are, to have someone look right through you. It's funny (in an ironic way) how God brings things to my attention. It seems He speaks to me through my hurt, my pain or my offense the most. That is when He teaches me best. It's when he shows me the other side of the coin. He takes my experience, my knowledge of a particular thing to show me truth. I remember several years ago when I was going through a particularly hard time in my marriage. I remember driving home from work, sobbing. I was feeling pretty low about myself as a wife, and in general. I told God that I wished I were different, that He had made me different, that He hadn't placed certain desires in my heart, that He had given me a different personality. I was questioning how my husband felt about me, because he didn't spend any time with me and when he did, we fought. I heard God speak clear as day in my heart. He told me He made me to please Himself. Not that I had to please Him, but that He was pleased with how He had made me. He asked me how it felt when my husband didn't have time for me. I realized then that was how I made God feel when I took my relationship with Him for granted. It broke my heart to realize that I could grieve Him in such a way. That I could make Him feel like He wasn't worth of my time.

Anyway, that was just an example. But my point is I was thinking about feeling invisible today and God turned it around on me. How often do I interact with someone and just look right through them. Do I take the time to take a deeper look? To really get to know someone? To make them feel valued, respected, loved? This happens with all of us all the time, even with those we love the most. We are busy people. So when a friend or family member comes to us to talk, do we half listen, thinking about the rest of our to-do list in our head, not really paying attention? Do we take the time to ask questions, to delve deeper, to understand what they are really saying? Do we share the pain or hurt of those we love, or are we too busy to notice? I know there are many times, I just don't want to mess with it. I want to do the minimal to show I care and move on to the next task. There are so many opportunities in each day to stop and encourage someone. Do we take the time to look beyond the surface, beyond the polite chit-chat, the half-hearted smile? There are so many people, so many of us, that are crying inside and yet we hide it, hoping that someone will take the time to really look at us. To care enough to dig a little and share our struggles. And not just to share the struggles but to recognize and affirm the good things in us. I really don't want to treat anyone like they are invisible. I've always purposed to treat others with respect. I choose to believe the best about others. Some might call that naive, in fact some have. But I would rather be naive than cynical. I want to be someone who encourages others. I think there have been many times when the heart of someone I care about has been invisible to me. But whose fault is that? I have the responsibility to dig deeper, to show I care enough that eventually I can be trusted. I don't want to look over or look past or look through another person. Because all it takes is one person to make a difference. I know, because there have been many times when one person cared enough about me to ask questions, to dig deep inside to the hidden things. And it mattered. That kind of grace is beautiful and healing. Suddenly you are no longer alone and that makes all the difference.

I Remember my Hero

10 Years. It's been 10 years this month that my Grampa's been gone. I can't believe time can pass so quickly. I can't believe we have lived that long without his presence, his laughter, his joie de vivre. I was talking to my mom the other day and I asked her if she knew what this month was. I had her stumped for a minute. Then I told her that about it being the anniversary and we just sat there looking at each other, not speaking. To speak would have put us both in tears, as it was I felt tears brimming under my eye lids. Then she said, "He took the sun." After 10 years I still can't believe there are moments filled with his memory that still can make me cry. Sometimes, I will hear the song we played at his funeral and cry, and then play it over again. A couple of years ago in Minnesota (where my mom was raised) we were sitting in a diner in her home town and I saw a man that looked like my Grampa's twin, he was even wearing the same hat my Grampa wore. Right there in that diner it was hard to believe I wasn't looking at my Grampa and I choked up. But I couldn't keep from glancing at him. There are times I tear up thinking that my husband never met my Grampa, never met the man who had such an impact on my life. I can't stand the thought that I can't share memories of someone I loved with the love of my life. It was my Grampa and my Dad and even my Uncle who helped form in me such a high regard for men in general and they didn't even do it on purpose. They just lived their daily lives, with love, humor and integrity.

Honestly, I don't think I knew how much my Grampa meant to me and his influence in my life, until he was gone. I just took for granted that he was there, laughing, loving, teasing being the anchor, the cornerstone of our family. I remember that day. It was a Saturday, right before Martin Luther King Monday, and I was sleeping in. My parents came in to my room together to wake me up. They had something to tell me and I knew before they spoke that my Grampa was gone. It was so surreal to receive such devestating news and then beginning the funeral planning that same afternoon. My mom was on the phone with her sister and brother and it didn't seem real. We cried and cried. I remember I wrote a poem to read at his funeral. I was sure I would be able to read it. Then I got up to the podium and I sobbed so hard I had to take breaths after almost every single word. But I had to finish, because I loved him. For a long time we couldn't fathom how life could go on with out him, how our family could go on without him. He was the axel in our family wheel. Even now, when we have family gatherings I look around and I know a piece is missing, a piece we've learned to live without. But looking at my family, I know he is still there. I see him in all of us. I was watching my uncle the other day when they visited us. He pulled a comb out of his back pocket and combed his hair back, exactly like my Grampa used to do. Exactly. Sometimes one of my cousins or sisters will do or say something and it reminds me of him. There are so many great little reminders of memories.

My Grampa was my hero. He taught me what it means to be great. Even now, when I struggle with the issue of greatness and feeling small, I remember him and what a great man he was even though he was never wealthy or famous. Every one who knew my Grampa loved him. I still run into people from time to time who knew him and they always say how special he was. He was a giver. He was truly interested in people. He talked but he also listened, with interest. He laughed and told dirty jokes. He taught me you can say whatever you want as long as you do it in good spirit with a smile. He would say things that no one else would dare to say and make people laugh while doing it. He was a people magnet. I remember when we would go to his house for a visit, there were always people sitting in his office, waiting to be worked on (He was a chiropracter), really just wanting to be around him. I hated that. He was ours and I never wanted to share him with people who weren't family. I was selfish. My Grampa was one of those rare people who made others feel better about themselves, just by being around him. I believe he did it by sharing himself. By being open and sincere. He wasn't perfect, but he was who he was. His funeral was packed. I remember people were amazed by how many other people attended. He had city leaders at his funeral. He also had a guy ride his bicycle 35 miles in a drizzle just to be there to honor him. Everyone had something wonderful to say about him and ten years later they still do. My mom still talks about her Daddy. She says it just like that, Daddy, like she was still a small girl. I still talk about my Grampa with the man I love but can never share him with. If I can be half of the person he was, then I will be happy. He was my hero. He still is.

Around You

This is in honor of those people we know and love (or have to put up with) who suck the life right out of a room. We all know at least one.

Around you I am smaller than nothing.

Around you I live, but I can barely breathe.

Around you I am a pillar supporting the weight of your dreams.

Around you I speak, but no one listens.

Around you my wings are clipped, I am grounded.

Around you I am a moth to the flame, fascinated yet helpless.

Around you my armor is weak and I am vulnerable.

Around you my dreams seem further out of reach.

Around you what I can give is never enough.

Around you I am defined by what you say.

Around you I am exhausted by meaningless effort.

Around you what I grasp for always vanishes.

Around you I struggle to be myself.

Around you I am always the guilty one.

Around you my soul withers slowly.

Around you I fight to retain what is mine.

Around you I am alone.