Seeing Is Grace

I feel sad at the grocery store. Sometimes I can hardly stand it.

This is weird, I know.

I try to not see them, but I can’t not look; it makes me crazy.

I just wanted to run in and grab a box of mac and cheese, and now I’m crying over an old man at the soup display. His hands shake. He finally slides a can into his pocket, and his hand is still shaking. Maybe he can’t remember what brand his wife asked him to get, or maybe he’s thinking of getting another kind altogether because they ate chicken noodle while watching Jeopardy every night for decades. Now her chair’s empty, and it’s just not the same.

Honestly, it could be a million things, but his eyes say, I’m tired. I’m lonesome.

I just hate it. And I make this stuff up in my head. I’m sure life isn’t always as grim as I make it out to be in my imagination, but I daresay we’ve all got our share of grimness right below the surface. I don’t want other people seeing that stuff in my eyes, so I look down. I avert and avoid.

There’s peace in not seeing, don’t you think?

I don’t have space or time for all of this. I don’t want to see this.

So we close our eyes to one another. We don’t want to get in anyone’s space or business. We don’t want the inconvenience. We don’t have the time. We move around one another, throw glances and nods, but we don’t stop and notice. While we may look at one another, we don’t see each other in a way that matters.

Don’t look at me. Please. I really don’t want you to see what’s inside. And I won’t look at you, either.We’ve fallen into a pattern of keeping things easy.

Easy doesn’t necessarily mean good. We have to see each other. By avoiding eyes, we avoid souls. When I avoid my neighbor’s eyes, I avoid her pain. I deny her grace and mercy. I’d never see it that way, of course. I’d never willfully deny grace, but my inaction is denial.

How can we minister and love when we aren’t seeing hearts and souls? We move and breathe as broken and cracked vessels in a wasteland of nothingness. But within each of us lies healing salve. There’s balm in listening, hearing, seeing, loving. When I refuse to smooth this balm onto my neighbor’s hurting heart, I bury the greatest earthly treasure known to mankind–grace.

This is life-changing, eye-opening power. The power of Jesus that breathes life into souls and presses compassion into caverns eroded by life’s hard-moving ways. God has infused us– you and me–with his Spirit’s healing power.  We must will ourselves to see those he places in our paths.

Even if it’s just in the grocery store.

So, look. Seek eyes with yours so they see Christ. This is where it begins.

I went up to the man, finally. I looked into his eyes and said, “Do you need some help?”

He said, “I can’t find the tomato.”

“Here it is.”

“Right in front of me,” he said.  “Thank you.”

He smiled then; I smiled back. His eyes lifted and said, Thank you for seeing me. 

And I wasn’t quite so sad anymore.

Melissa Bronson loves authenticity, her fanny pack, digging in dirt, sharp pencils, and watching her Father’s hand spin Life in and around her. Oh, and words. She loves words. She is mother to four daughters, wife, sister, daughter and friend. You can find her blog at mdbronson.com.

Photograph of Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup Cans © Bethany Beams, used with permission