I was of driving age and had even waited longer than my classmates to get my license and take that new, hallowed step into independence. I had waited, hoping to save up for my own car. One autumn weekend our pastor and his wife came over with quite the surprise. They had gifted me with a car! Not just any car- a 80-something Volvo. Complete with a cassette player, this beauty of a car sat perfectly in our driveway, shining in all its baby blue glory. It was mine.
I had never really had any expectations for what kind of car I would drive. I was just dazzled by the fact that something with 4 wheels and an engine could really be mine. There were a few things needing attention before I could drive it, so it would be at the mechanic for a couple weeks. But soon I would be riding through town in style, bumping to the hip jams of my Amy Grant cassette tape. To say I was excited would've been an understatement.
Monday at school I sauntered through the halls as if I was a new woman, having truly arrived as a grownup. I enthusiastically told my friends about the gift and offered to take them on rides in my luxury vehicle.
The next day, I felt as though icy cold water was dumped on my warm, happy dreams. A friend from school, having thoroughly explained the previous day how much she too had always wanted a Volvo, drove into the school parking lot in...her new Volvo. Very similar in model and year, but a different color. I was devastated. Mad. Upset. Betrayed. I bet she was just really excited to share an experience with me and had no idea that I felt totally walked on and unseen.
Have you ever felt unseen?
Fast forward a few years to the 20-something version of myself and you'll find a few more experiences like this one. Some deeper, more hurtful. Some littler. Some are completely unintentional. But the bottom line is: sometimes we just feel unseen, neglected and forgotten about.
I've referenced this story once before in Day 3 of last year's 31 Day Writing Challenge (Hagar & Sarai: Where I find myself.) and I will reference it again. Because the story of Hagar is just too, too good. Feeling unseen reminds me of this story. I wonder how Sarai felt when she was unable to get pregnant with the promised offspring- did she wonder if God remembered her? I wonder how Hagar felt when she quickly got pregnant by her master (Sarai's husband) and was hated by Sarai- did she feel used up and abandoned? I love the Creator God's heart for Hagar as he pursued her in the desert as she tried to flee. He reminded her she was not alone, gave her a promise, and told her to go back to the one who hurt her. But most importantly, she was seen.
She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her:
“You are the God who sees me,”
for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”
Usually when I feel unseen, I want to run away. I want to sulk and nurse my wounds. I feel victimized and I want to ignore the person who walked over me. But like Hagar was instructed to go back home and deal with the problem, we too must choose to interact with those we would wish to avoid. And even more difficult- we must choose to celebrate their joys. Even when we feel like no one sees our disappointment.
That coworker who got the promotion you wanted?
That couple who got pregnant in the midst of your battle with infertility?
That friend who got a cute new boyfriend and you're still recovering from the last breakup?
It takes faith and trust to share in others' joys when we feel unseen. But we place that trust in a God who sees. And that is enough.
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