Psalm 139:1 – 4 (NIV)

“O LORD, you have searched me and You know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue You know it completely, O LORD.”

Have you ever been invisible?  You know the feeling- you’re standing at the party alone and everyone is making small talk except you. You’re at the meeting and no one asks for your input or even addresses the fact that yes, you are indeed a consumer of oxygen.  Invisible.

In the building where I work, there are two people from Somalia who faithfully clean our restrooms and empty our trash cans. The woman silently mops floors and scrubs toilets. She is careful not to make eye contact and seems almost startled when I interrupt her chores with a “Good Morning.” I sometimes wonder which one of us is invisible. My thoughts trail off into the distance. Maybe she appears startled because no one greets her- maybe she has become invisible in her own mind’s eye. Or perhaps I am invisible to her- my life so incomprehensible to her that she is unable to see me- really see me.

The man comes each day- grinning. He empties our trash cans. We exchange our hellos, I say thank you, he says “welcome.” His eyes are smiling and when I return from missing work for a few days, he asks: “Vacation?”

Lately, our conversations are dotted with more syllables:

“It’s beautiful out today. Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yes, maybe rain later.”

He picks up my trash can and dumps it into his receptacle and quietly disappears. One evening as I drive home- I begin to wonder what his name is. He doesn’t know my name and I don’t know his. I make a mental note to ask him tomorrow.

But tomorrow comes and goes and I don’t ask the question. I say ‘hello, thank you, enjoy your day.’ He replies with a ‘welcome, you too, bye.’

Today is different. He faithfully comes around the corner to my work station and appears almost joyful. I greet him and he returns the pleasantry.

Then he looks at me- right into my eyes- and asks the question:

“What is your name?”

I stammer my reply: “Pam.”

I volley the question back- “What is your name?”

He answers but I cannot make out what he is saying. My bewilderment must have registered on my face. He says, “Look here.” He gets out his name badge and points to his name: “Adan.” He grins up at me and asks , “You?”  I realize with a grin that he can’t decipher my name either.  I repeat, “Pam. It’s a very short name. Just three letters.” He smiles.
Something inside me wells up and I stretch out my hand to offer a handshake. He nods his head to say no and points to his gloved hand. He doesn’t want me to touch the hand that has also touched our trash. My hand hangs in mid-air, waiting for his response. He smiles and touches my arm. “Pam.”  “Adan.”

As I drive home that evening- I marvel at the power of human connection. To see someone- really see someone- you must know their name. My thoughts turn to our Creator- He sees me. He sees you. We are never invisible to Him. In the darkest parts of our hearts, He is there.  In the joyful, light-filled spaces, He is there.

Jesus, You always see me- even when I am unable to see myself. You know me- all of me- but never turn away from what you find in my heart. Help me to see others, nudge me so that I do not overlook the souls around me. Remind me that no one is invisible.  Amen.