Can Anybody See Me?

Last summer my husband and I took our kids to a family reunion in California. The day before the reunion, we spent a day in San Francisco doing some sight-seeing. We had a 15 passenger van to haul us and the 9 of our 11 kids that were with us, and after a visit to Alcatraz, the kids ran off in a big herd to the place they thought we had parked the van. My husband and I chuckled as we knew they were going the wrong way. We got to the van with our two youngest with us, and watched as the kids realized they had missed the street, came circling back, and piled in. My husband asked if everyone was there, they said yes, and off we went to our next destination. 

In another area of town, we were standing in line to get ice cream when someone asked, "Where is Matthew?" I knew immediately we had left my then 12 year old son in the other area of town. We all piled back in the van and drove as fast as we could back to where we had been. One kid started to cry because she was worried about her brother, and my husband got mad at the kids for saying they were all there when they weren't (although really- that was on us not to count!). I felt so sick inside. I was completely silent that long drive back, praying with all my heart that my boy would be okay. 

When we got to the area we had come from, we pulled over on the side of the street and one group of our older kids got out to start looking. We kept driving around the block to try to find a proper parking spot and while still driving, I spotted him standing in the middle of an open grassy place looking very forlorn. I couldn't get out of the van fast enough. As soon as I could, I ran over to him and hugged him so tight. I apologized and told him it was an accident and made sure he knew we thought he was with us. His eyes were puffy and red- he had clearly been crying. 

After everyone's nerves settled and we were all back in the van and driving again, Matthew said, "First I started crying as bait. I thought if I cried, someone would see me, ask me what was wrong and let me borrow their phone. But then when no one stopped, I really started to cry because I was scared." 

Now to the point of this post...no one saw him. If they did, no one stopped. No one noticed a crying 12 year old boy was all by himself. It wasn't the fact that he couldn't find us that he got scared and cried, it was when no one stopped. No one paid him any attention at all. Aren't we all like this? We can feel totally lost but when someone sees us, acknowledges our pain, and lets us know they care, it sure can go a long way towards feeling safe, even in our pain. Like Mathew alone in San Francisco that day, it can be very scary and dangerous to suffer alone. 

So how can we all help each other out? Just pay attention and speak up. Notice. Look around. Don't assume someone else is taking care of it, or that they want to be left alone. If they want to be left alone, they will tell you. Our fears can become so much louder when there is no one to hear us express what our fears are. No, sharing does not always take them away, but it can help to know we are seen and valued. 

One of my favorite, most sacred parts of being a life coach is seeing the look on my clients' faces when they know I see them. I hear them. And even better, when they can see that relief is in sight. It's magical. We can all offer that kind of loving acknowledgment to others just by slowing down, noticing, speaking up and expressing love. One of my favorite speakers/authors, Brene Brown, said this recently: "My mom taught me to never look away from people's pain. The lesson was simple: Don't look away. Don't look down. Don't pretend not to see hurt. Even when the pain is overwhelming. And when you're in pain, find the people who can look you in the eye. We need to know we're not alone- especially when we're hurting." 

I am so grateful my son was okay that day. We can laugh about it now because nothing tragic happened and we were reunited. But I do wish someone would have stopped, let them use their phone and waited with him. It would have brought me as his mother, and mostly him, so much comfort. BE that person that stops. BE that person that sees.