2:47 p.m. "I am invisible." I hear a woman's voice beside me in a room where an estate sale is underway. I take a minute to comprehend these words which are not what I expect. "Will you take 10 bucks?" or "I wonder if this radio actually works" -- these are the words appropriate for an estate sale. "I am invisible" is definitely not estate sale parlance.
I look up, half expecting to see no one in the room with me. Invisible means invisible, right? But there she is, an older woman looking a bit stunned, and a bit ticked off. I have absolutely no idea what she means -- Is she reading the title of a 50 cent book? Is she having an existential moment? Is she looking in a mirror? (Note to self: Upon quick scan of room, there is no mirror. Awkward vampire moment averted.)
I digress.
Worried that she is having existential angst, I respond to the woman saying, "I see you." Trust me, not as epic as Avatar, but it did stop the woman in her tracks. I think she was stunned to hear someone respond to her. After a moment she says to me, "People just walk right into me like I'm not even here." I can only guess she is referring to the "gentleman" who just left the room hurriedly in hopes of scoring an amazing sale item in the next room.
The only thing I know to say is "I am sorry." Not because I am the person who made her feel invisible, but because I am part of this whole fabulous mess of humanity that sometimes is good at truly seeing people, and sometimes makes people feel invisible. I think about the times that I too have felt invisible, either because of my own perceptions or because of forces outside of myself. I think about the times when my own preoccupations have kept me from seeing those right in front of me.
I go on with my shopping and end up walking out with not only a great deal on a floor lamp but a lot to pray on. What does it mean to be invisible? How do we use race, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, education level, appearance, etc. to make people feel invisible? How do we come to be visible again?
The words of the psalmist echo quietly.
O God, you have searched me, and you know me.
You know if I am standing or sitting, you read my thoughts from far away.
Whether I walk or lie down, you are watching;
you are intimate with all of my ways.
A word is not even on my tongue, God, before you know what it is:
you hem me in, before and behind, shielding me with your hand.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, a height my mind cannot reach!
Where could I run from your Spirit? Where could I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you’re there; if I make my bed in death,
you’re already there.
I could fly away with wings made of dawn,
or make my home on the far side of the sea,
but even there your hand will guide me, your mighty hand holding me fast.
If I say, “The darkness will hide me, and night will be my only light,”
even darkness won’t be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day— darkness and light are the same to you.Psalm 139:1-12
May we see as God sees.
