Somebody You Know--December 1, 2021

Somebody You Know--December 1, 2021

Somebody you know is waiting.  Waiting to be remembered.  Waiting to get some sign of friendliness, some assurance of their worth, some message from another soul that says, "You are not forgotten."

Someone you know, even if you do not know them very well or go back a long way, is waiting for some acknowledgement of all the heartache they are nursing, all the effort they are giving to the world, all the burdens they have been carrying for too long.  

That somebody--or maybe there are several (it seems likely; after all, life is hard)--isn't looking to have you swoop in to fix all their problems.  But they are waiting, longing even, for you to reach out and say, "I see you."  Someone is waiting for you to check in with them.

Today, the dare for each of us is to do just that--to check in on someone.  Nothing more, necessarily--this isn't about you or me casting ourselves as the hero or the savior out of pity.  But also, nothing less--that is, it will take us actually reaching out and making contact.  Good intentions don't even get us outside our own heads.  Well-meaning but forgotten plans don't make a difference.  Actually picking up the phone, or better yet, talking to someone face to face, or even sending a text message if nothing else--actually making contact with someone who might just need to hear that you were thinking of them and wanted to check in.  That goes a very long way indeed.  

And, in God's cleverness, it might also give us a deeper understanding of what we are hoping for in this season of Advent.  We are longing, with our ancestors in the faith going back for generations, to know that God sees us... that God remembers us... that God has not left us to fend for ourselves.  Sometimes what we need is simply the assurance that God loves us enough to stay connected with us... because sometimes we feel awfully forgotten or alone.

This is one of those things I think we sometimes miss each year as we rush toward Christmas, ticking each day off our calendars once we hit the start of December.  We don't even have to wait four full weeks to get to Christmas Day now, and yet our ancestors in the faith waited their whole lives--and longer--to see some whisper of a hint that God was still moving in the world.  We sing, "O come, O Come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here..." but maybe it doesn't sink in that those were centuries (centuries!) of people's longing and waiting to hear from God that they were not alone.  They were willing to be patient with God, but sometimes, if they were really honest, it felt like God was ignoring them, or that God's messages weren't getting through.  They needed someone--some prophet or poet or leader--to tell them, "God sees us.  God loves us.  God knows what we are going through and shares it with us."

When we remember that part of our faith story, maybe we'll be able to recognize how often any of us may find ourselves in that place. We need to know someone else sees.  We need to know someone else cares.  We need to know we haven't been forgotten or pushed off to the side or left out.  We need someone to check in on us. Maybe nothing more--no agenda, no favors to be asked or fixes to be applied.  Just the presence of someone else saying, "I was thinking of you and wanted to hear how things are going for you."

And from there, well, maybe it's just conversation.  Sometimes someone has been left feeling invisible or forgettable for so long they can hardly believe it when you take the time to say, "I want to know what's going on in your life!"  Sometimes they are so used to putting up their own defenses they don't know how to respond to genuine care, and you have to be patient with them.  Sometimes the other person needs permission by your willingness to check in on them to unload the things that have been weighing on them, and then to let them go like chaff in the breeze.  Like I say, it's not about you or me getting to swoop in to save the day or "fix" someone where we think they are broken--it's about sharing what they are going through, as a reminder that they are not forgotten by God.  The apostle puts it like this:  "weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice."  To do that, we have to be checking in with one another to know which is called for.

Just imagine what ripple effects you may have on someone else's life--what a chain-reaction you may trigger, just by the willingness to send a message, leave a voicemail, or start a conversation.  The world teaches us to keep our troubles close to the vest, like we are all playing a bad hand of cards and have to keep our best poker faces.  But to break through those defenses and let someone know you care about them, without being condescending or patronizing, but just to remind them they are important to you--that changes things.  It reminds the other person--and you as well!--that none of us is in this life alone.

I can't help but think of those words from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer's poem, "Belonging," on a day like today, where she writes:

"And if it's true we are alone,
we are alone together,
the way blades of grass
are alone, but exist as a field.
...When we feel alone,
we belong to the grand
communion
of those who sometimes feel alone.
we are the dust, the dust that
hopes,
a rising of dust, a thrill of dust,
the dust that dances in the light
with all other dust, the dust
that makes the world."

Someone you know feels like that lonely blade of grass, that isolated speck of dust, and could really use your presence to connect with them while they "mourn in lonely exile here."  You could be the one who shows up on the edge of their awareness, like a prophet to forlorn Israelites in Babylon, to say, "You are not alone.  I am with you, and because I am with you, you must also be in the presence and under the care of the God who led me to reach out to you, too."  

You could be the one who makes all the difference in the world to someone today.  Take the chance.  Embody hope for them.

Lord God, help us to see and to call to mind the people on the periphery of our awareness who might need to know they are beloved today.  Give us the courage and the time to reach out.