Choose to See
I remember the first time, I was at a dinner and was talking with a friend and my daughter Sarah. My friend asked a question that if answered honestly would make me vulnerable…I took the plunge. A few minutes into my answer my friend either didn’t sense the importance of my sharing or needed to say something and began to talk over me. I stopped talking, swallowed my words and focused on my friend. My daughter slid her hand over and squeezed my hand and mouthed the words, “I see you.” It took my breath away…to be seen. Focus that says you are valuable, what you are saying is important, what you are sharing makes you feel tender and I see that.
For my kids it seems like breathing, reaching out to ensure I know they are there. I have so many things around my house that shout “I see you!”, things my kids have given me during difficult times. When I questioned my parenting skills they sent me a sign with You are my Sunshine on it and reminded me how I would personalize the song at night and how they loved that. A necklace they sent was to remind me that my faith was the strongest thing I had…and I needed to be reminded. My son recently called to check on me because I hadn’t put an exclamation on a text. He read me right, I was having a sad day.
Recently my son had a mastectomy as part of his transitioning to a male. I visited him after the surgery and when i walked in the room I saw a smile so big it left no questions about how he felt. In the days before the surgery, I had many mixed emotions, but to be honest most of it was concern that my son would come through the surgery okay. People around me asked me how I was feeling but mostly they wanted me to say I was happy for him…and I was. In the midst of all he has felt in his life, seeing him in this surgery and celebrating with him was important. The day of the surgery I hugged him and kissed him and left him for a few minutes with his dad and wife but I really wanted to ask the surgeon if I could just sit in the operating room if I promised not to interrupt them, I just needed to know my son was still breathing.
As I sat in the waiting room, I texted a few special friends. You know the ones. The friends who listen, who hear…who see. And they responded quickly, how are you doing? It felt so good to say I was worried as a mom, that I had mixed emotions about the surgery. They just let me feel, let me be honest, and let me grieve that my daughter is gone. I never want to overshadow James’ story, it is his and his alone. Yet, our lives are not a vacuum, they impact those around us and change their stories. James’ story is part of mine. As a mom of 4 little girls I never imagined years later I would sit in a waiting room waiting for my son to wake up from a mastectomy because he felt like a man inside. But there I sat.
I slept on the couch the first night he came home and woke up all night, checking to see he wasn’t bleeding, that he was okay. And by the next morning my new normal felt more real and less scary. My son is healing and happy with the surgery and he looks wonderful.
My hope is I will remember that I need to see others. When they post on facebook they are going through pain, I hope I reach out and say how are you. When I see them in the store and ask them how they are doing and they really tell me, I hope I stop and listen. As a christian, I think about the people who came into contact with Jesus and wonder how they felt. He said some really hard things to people but the only ones who seemed to struggle were the religious; the men who were very sure they knew what God would do and Jesus didn’t fit the picture. I don’t have all the answers but I know the longer I walk with Him, I am drawn to love people because everything that has been done by Him in my life has begun in love.
So in this current place we live in with strong political opinions, angry posts and short fuses I say choose to see the person. Choose to see.
