Would They Even Notice?

As a general rule, I think I'm pretty good about being aware of what's going on around me ... well, except for that tree I often smack into out on the walking trail, and that totally doesn't count because it's a thing and not a person. I'm talking about paying attention and being observant to what's going on around me when it comes to people, not trees that obviously jump out in front of me when I'm walking. People like the elderly lady at the grocery store who was so very frail. Or the little kid on the playground who was crying. Or the server at the restaurant who was so helpful and nice. Or the homeless man who was lying on the street corner. Or my friend who was fighting back tears. Or the jogger who was running past my office window. Or the guy who was cleaning the windows of the building next door. Or my children ... my children when they smile ... my children when they cry ... my children when they laugh ... my children when they hurt ... my children when they sing. Or my granddaughter ... my granddaughter when she dances ... my granddaughter when she disobeys ... my granddaughter when she pouts ... my granddaughter when she giggles. 

Last Friday evening, I spent several hours trying to make a dent in reading through some of the mountain of emails and Facebook messages I receive each week. I still get my fair share of hate mail, so I have to spread out my reading ... sometimes I'm able to chalk up the unkind words to people having nothing better to do than send me mean messages, but there are other times when the unkind words totally bring me down. Thankfully, I also receive a ton of positive and encouraging messages, and those are the ones I try to focus on rather the negative and judgmental ones. But there's another category of emails and messages ... the ones from people who are hurting ... the ones from people who are searching ... the ones from people who are looking for answers to life's most difficult questions. Those are the words that haunt me, that make me understand, at least in part, why I'm still here. I read one of those notes late on Friday night ... one that has caused me to pray I notice ... to hope with every fiber of my being that I always notice.

"Every morning I go to the same coffee shop. I've been going there for 7 years. Every morning I wonder if they would even notice if I suddenly stopped coming in. Every day I go to the same job. I've been working there for 23 years. Every day I wonder if they would even notice if I didn't come to work. Every Sunday I go to the same church. I've been going there for 16 years. Every Sunday I wonder if they would even notice if I didn't come back. Every evening I wave to the same neighbor when I go to the mailbox. I've been waving to her for 6 years. Every evening I wonder if she would even notice if I wasn't there to wave. 

I saw your video. I wonder if you ever felt the way I do. Did you ever wonder if anyone would even notice if you died? Did you ever wonder if it would even make a difference to anyone if you were gone? Did you ever wonder those things? Did you ever wonder if they would even notice you weren't there?"

There was no name on the note and when I attempted to respond to the email, I received a "message undeliverable" reply. I've obviously struggled with whether or not to write about the anonymous author, since I read the note on Friday and today is Monday. But I can't get the words the person wrote out of my head, nor can I remove the sense of pain deep within my soul for not only the writer but for all the hundreds of thousands of others who are asking the same question. I can't not answer the questions the person asked of me ... I must answer the questions ... I must. Yes, I felt the same way ... I wondered if anyone would notice if I died. The truth is there are times even now when that question tries desperately to worm its way into my mind and taunt me. There was a time when not only did I wonder if anyone would notice if I were gone, I thought they would be better off without me. Yep ... I actually believed I would be doing them a favor by ridding them of my misery.

Someone reminded me a few days ago of what a dark time that was for me ... it was darker than dark ... way, way darker than dark ... I thought I would never see the light again. But my friend also reminded me of something else ... something that caused me to weep the first time she told me. People noticed my darkness. People noticed my sadness. People noticed my pain. People noticed because they cared. While I thought I was doing such a good job of hiding the torment within my soul ... people noticed. Do I still wonder if I matter? Sometimes. Do I still wonder if I make a difference? Sometimes. Do I still wonder if they would notice if I wasn't around anymore? Sometimes. Do I ask those questions every moment of every day like I did when I was drowning in the darkness? No. No. No, I don't. That's the thing, you know ... I'm so much better than I was before ... that's what I hold on to ... that's what I keep tucked deep within my heart and soul ... I'm so much better than I was before.

When my children were young, I would say, "Stop, look and listen ... be careful little feet. Stop, look and listen before you cross the street." Reminding my kiddos to stop, look and listen was my way of trying to protect them and keep them safe ... my way of letting them know I was paying attention and noticing if they were in danger ... my way of telling them how very important they were to me. I realize now that it's not just children who need those reminders ... we all do ... every single one of us, friends. No one should ever have to wonder ... "Would they even notice?"

Stop, look and listen, and tell them that you care. Stop, look and listen, and notice they are there.