Let's play a little game this evening. I'll tell you a story about something one of my three children did when he or she was three years old, and you guess which kid it was. And so that I don't have to write he or she every time, I'm going to use a pretend name ... one that works for both genders. Sage ... for the story, my kiddo will be Sage.
It was a hot summer afternoon, and Sage and the siblings were outside in the front yard in their swim suits running back and forth through the sprinkler. I had gone inside to fix myself a drink and get the kids some popsicles, and was only in the house for just a few minutes. (By the way, those of you who are parents know that three children ages six and under need merely a moment to get into mischief.) When I returned to the front yard, I was surprised to see that Sage and the siblings were still enjoying playing in the water. I was even more surprised, however, to see that Sage was naked ... completely and totally buck naked. When I told Sage it was inappropriate to play outside in the buff, Sage informed me that since Sage was invisible, it was okay ... no one would be able to see Sage's nakedness. And when I tried to explain to Sage that I could see Sage and so could the rest of the neighborhood, Sage calmly said, "Nuh-uh, Mom, I'm invisible. You can hear me but you can't see me. I'm invisible." It took me several minutes to catch the running Sage and drape the little naked form in a towel. Sage was, after all, invisible ... and invisible Sages can run very fast. While you're guessing which of my three kiddos is Sage, let me explain why I've had Sage's invisible sprinkler adventure on my mind today.
Last night, I was trying to read through some of the emails I've received over the last month or so ... don't judge me, I get a ton of emails. I happened to click on an email from someone ... I say someone because I don't know if the person is male or female or young or old. The note was quite lengthy, but one section in particular has haunted me all day.
"I don't know which is worse. It's so hard to not belong or fit in or to be invisible but I think it's worse to be invisible. Because when you're invisible you believe that no one would see you if you weren't there anymore. Like if you didn't show up one day no one would miss you because you were invisible. That's the hardest part. To keep showing up when nobody sees you."
The person said several times in the note that he or she knew I wouldn't reply to the note because I wouldn't understand his or her feelings of not belonging or of being invisible. Well, I did reply to the person ... I replied and asked him or her to read tonight's post. Why? Because I do understand ... I do understand ... I do understand. Let me say that again ... I do understand what it feels like not to belong, not to fit, to be invisible and wonder if anyone would notice if I was gone ... or worse yet ... to believe they would actually be better off without me. I understand that those feelings combined with the tremendous stress of trying to hide who I am for so many years came awfully darn close to killing me. I understand, my friend, and if you don't know anything else today, please know this ... I see you. Just like I could see my little kiddo all those years ago standing naked in our front yard, I see you ... you are not invisible to me, friend ... you are not invisible to me.
Here's the really big thing I'd like you to take away from tonight's post ... there are so many, many people who feel like they don't belong or fit in ... there are so many, many people who feel like they are invisible ... there are so many, many people who wonder if anyone would even notice if they were gone. Open your eyes ... open your eyes and your hearts, and look for them ... look for them, friends ... look for the ones who feel invisible. Open your eyes and your hearts ... tell them you see them ... tell them you need them ... tell them they matter to you. Tell them they are not invisible to you.
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