‘Did you see me?’

A few years ago, Jack and I stayed in a vacation rental home in Florida. It was nice enough, but the ornate chandelier was thick with dust and cobwebs. Even Jack saw it. (This is a man who believes cleaning should involve a high-pressure sprayer and/or a backpack blower. If he notices the dirt, it’s serious.)

He sat peacefully one morning at the dining room table, installing a new com set on my motorcycle helmet. I filled a pail with soapy water, grabbed a couple of rags and gingerly climbed onto the table to clean the light fixture. I know – risky. But it was a massive piece of furniture and appeared to be rock solid. I gently cleaned each crystal prism and dusted the brass chain. The last cobweb dangled near the ceiling. I stretched as high as I could to reach it. Suddenly there was a thunderous crash! Suds and rags flew in all directions and I was inexplicably staring back at Jack from the floor – the tabletop scattered around me like a shipwreck. He blinked in disbelief, still holding my helmet in his lap, screwdriver poised.

“I’m okay,” I muttered. “The table – not so much.” My dear handyman husband spent the rest of his day reconstructing and refinishing, until the table was good as new. I wondered if my escapade might go viral online. We had a couple of neighbours in clear sight through the big dining room doors. Fortunately, my YouTube-worthy moment had apparently passed unrecorded.

Two-way street

Privacy is an increasingly precious commodity these days. Nevertheless, at other times we want very much to be seen. This spring we attended three separate Grandparents’ Days. Each Christian school has its own personality and their presentations were all beautifully unique. Still, in each setting, when the children took their places on stage, every one of them scanned the audience for their grandparents. They wanted to see and be seen by people who came just for them. It was a two-way street. Grandparents craned their necks, smiled and waved as they sought to capture their progeny’s attention.Our granddaughters Abigail and Hanna filed out with their schoolmates at the end of their musical. Hanna locked eyes with me as she passed and called out unabashedly, “Did you see me?”I grinned and shouted back, “Sure did!”

Have you noticed?

Connection. We yearn for it. Humans need to be noticed, acknowledged, accepted and loved. We want to know we’re not alone. Someone truly cares about us simply for who we are. We matter. The purest source of such security is found in God’s love. He embraces us and his perfect love washes over us and through us. It’s not about our abilities, beauty, resources or intellect. It’s about being his beloved child, created in his own image. Think of it – as millions pray to him all at once, he hears your voice! He watches over you personally, tenderly, even as his eye is on the sparrow. He notices you.

This is also a two-way street. Can you imagine his voice whispering in the summer breeze, “Did you see me? I sent you a cerulean sky today. I ordained the bird’s song and orchestrated the lake’s waves. I painted a magnificent sunset and choreographed those Northern lights. I’m here. Especially for you.”Don’t miss it.