It was time for church again. Parking in my usual spot, I headed for the doors. I was early. Typical for me. A few people were already there. A grabbed a bulletin as I headed to my seat.
My seat. Isn’t it strange how we get possessive over a place to sit on a bench? The place where we always sit at church. We feel lost if someone is there when we walk in.
I watch the people coming in as I wait for the service to begin. Families. Couples. Singles. Some come together. Some come alone.
The ones who come alone, they seem to stay alone. No one comes to sit with them. Others don’t seem to see them there. They are invisible.
It’s how I often feel. Invisible. As I sit alone. No conversations. No hugs. No handshakes. Just me alone. Invisible in the crowd.
The service is over. I linger a few moments, then gather my purse and Bible to leave. I smile and maybe say a quick hello as I walk past the families gathered around.
Longing to be noticed. Hoping to be seen. I take my time at the coffee bar, seeking familiar faces. A chance to have a conversation. Still I feel invisible as others pass me by. I am still invisible.
Finally, I leave. Crying as I sit in my car. I wonder if the day will come when I’m no longer invisible.
A week goes by. It’s time for church again. Do I really want to go? No one will notice if I don’t. I am invisible. I think I’ll skip this week.
Monday comes. My phone rings.
“Missed you at church. Is everything alright?” the voice on the other end asks.
“Yes. Just had a busy week.” is my reply.
I can hardly say the words. Tears are forming in my eyes. A lump in my throat. I’m not invisible. Someone noticed. Someone cared.
I guess I’ll keep going. Maybe I’ll even be bolder in my attempts to talk to others. They may feel invisible. I need to let them know they’re not. I notice. I care. Like someone did for me.