These are my random thoughts for today:
Ever feel like as soon as you put make up on, your tear ducts start to run? Every time I wear make up I cry. That’s why I don’t wear it often.
Or maybe I just notice more that I cry when I wear make up, because I’m concerned about messing up the “beauty” I’ve painted on my face.
It’s ironic. I sometimes wear make up in hopes that it keeps me from crying. Especially when facing a hard day or sad situation. It doesn’t work. Despite the heavy black mascara I’ve applied to my eyelashes, angry, hot tears spill out of my eyes. They run down my face with the colors I’m wearing, smearing down creating a canvas of color.
Do you ever see people? Really see them?? I tend to pass by people so often but I forget to look at them and instead I look through them. I forget that other people have lives. Sometimes their lives are more exciting than mine, and sometimes they’re more interesting. I only remember when I meet someone new and we sit down as they share their story that others have lives just like I do.
But sometimes we don’t get to talk to every person we encounter. We run into people and go about our day like our issues and our goals are the only ones that exists. Which is true in our lives, but it doesn’t have to be. I don’t want it to be. I want to think of others.
Have you ever heard the song “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath or “Proof of Your Love” by King and Country? I think of these songs when I think of people. I want to see people, instead of seeing through them. I want to serve God by serving people instead of serving myself. But how? I’m still figuring that part out.
Sometimes when I people watch I imagine what their lives are like. There’s a woman that works at Kroger who has no hair. Every time I’m there I get in her lane and I smile at her and ask her how she’s doing. I want to ask her if she’s in treatment or if she has alopecia and let her know that I care. Is my smile enough?
I sat in the coffee shop the other day and watched as a group of women much older than I sat in a circle, knitting and talking. I wanted to join them and my hands ached to knit. Would they think my knitting is bad compared to theirs? They were knitting sweaters and blankets. I knit hats. Mostly hats. What are their lives like? What are they talking about? I couldn’t understand them or read their lips. But I wanted to go up and ask if I could join their little lady group. They matter.
Two young women walked by me. One’s hand slightly over the other. Were they lovers? I smiled. They looked on guard. I wanted to approach them “You don’t have to be on guard”. I wanted to invite them to dinner at my house and serve them. Show them Love.
I saw three young people, a man and two women, sitting in the comfortable chairs across from me. I smiled again. The young man and one young woman looked like they were together. Were they married? I wanted to ask them. They looked so fierce and passionate. They had their Bible out on the table in front of them and were in deep, caring discussion. I wanted to ask them about their church. I wanted to join them. What are their lives like? Who are they?
I looked all the way across the room to a young girl, maybe 5 years old, playing on an IPAD and her grandmother or someone much older sitting across from her with tea. My heart smiled. So precious.
I walked outside and a young man in a sleeveless shirt was walking down the street. There were track marks up his arms. His eyes were red rimmed. I wanted to stop and hug him. I wanted to ask him about his life. Who are you? I wanted to see HIM.
I wanted to SEE them.
I wanted to see all of them! Really see them! I wanted to go up and ask uncomfortable questions and make awkward comments and invite them to my church, my house, my heart.
I wanted to minister and love and acknowledge.
I wanted. I wanted.