Seen

I am tired. Bone-tired, as my grandma says. Bone-tired and soul-weary.

Since my son was born, tired has pretty much been my constant state of being, but this week, I’m extra tired.

I’ve left my normal ‘been up all day working and mom-ing and wife-ing’ tired in the dust. This week, I’ve landed somewhere in the land of ‘how can I ever do all of this’ and ‘I have nothing left to give.’

It has been one of those weeks where all the things come at once. The perfect storm of busyness and the unexpected. Let me give you a more specific picture.

There was a big deadline for my students last week, which, in short, left me with tons of essays, notebooks, dialectical journals, quizzes, and tests to grade this week. Also, with any deadline in education comes a ton of questions.

“Hey, I submitted my notebook, can you double-check that you got it?”

“Mrs. H, what exactly do I have to complete by the deadline again?”

“Have you graded my assignment (that I just turned in five minutes ago) yet?”

“Why did I get an 85% on this and not a 100%?”

These are all perfectly fine questions to ask (though, maybe give me a day or so before asking if your work has been graded), but when these questions are coming at you nonstop as you try to grade the mountain of work in question, it can be, well, stressful.

That is how my Monday started. Still, I had a good attitude. I was stressed, but I was going to attack those grades and get them done.

Until my aunt called and shared that my 88-year-old grandmother (we call her Nanny) had been taken by an ambulance to the hospital. For the past four or five days, Nanny hadn’t been feeling well, and over the weekend, we’d been called over to help her a couple of times. I was already worried about her from that, so of course, I was unable to focus as I waited for more news. Thank the Lord, the issue wasn’t life-threatening, but it had severely weakened her, and she ended up staying the full week in the hospital. Around noon, I headed there myself to sit with her, and throughout the week, my aunt, uncle, and I shared shifts staying with her during the day.

With caring for Nanny, though I was happy to do it, my week quickly went from hard but doable to complete chaos. But, there’s more.

It’s track season, and my coach husband was gone at a meet until late Monday night, went to watch a basketball game until late Tuesday night, and was at another track meet until late Thursday night.

I’m was also facing this crazy, chaotic week all on my own. But, wait…there’s more.

My son, I’m sure worried about Nanny too and feeding off of my stress, was not having anything but his own way this week. Everything was a battleground, and I was not emotionally equipped to handle that many lines drawn in the sand.

Y’all, by Tuesday night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was this stress weight on my chest and tears threatened to fall at just about anything (hitting my head really hard on a counter in the bathroom definitely unleashed them at one point).

Like I said. It was ALL. THE. THINGS. Everything. All at once. I felt overwhelmed, underqualified, and understaffed. And, most of all, I felt invisible.

I felt like I was carrying this huge boulder that I was somehow supposed to carry up a mountain, and I had to do it alone.

Except I am never alone.

There is a story in Genesis, a part of Abraham’s story, that I have always loved, and God reminded me of it this week.

God makes his covenant with Abraham (then, Abram) that he will give him a son and make him into many nations. Cool. Abraham believes that. His wife, Sarah (then, Sarai), apparently thinks the promise can’t include her because she’s so old, so she convinces Abraham to sleep with her slave, Hagar, instead.

Sounds like a great plan, right? Of course not. Hagar becomes pregnant, and, surprise to no one, this causes strife between her and Sarah, so Sarah goes to Abraham to complain. Abraham basically says Sarah can do whatever she wants to Hagar, so, we are told “Sarai mistreated Hagar; so she fled from her” (Genesis 16:6).

My week was nothing compared to Hagar’s. She was having a doozy. Who knows what form of mistreatment Sarai, a jealous, childless wife, doled out on her? We aren’t told the specifics in Genesis, but Hagar was clearly unloved by Sarah or Abraham, pregnant, and being abused to the extent she decided to run away in a DESERT.

I’m sure she felt invisible. That her burden was hers to carry alone. That no one would see it or care.

But God did.

The angel of the Lord met Hagar at a spring in the desert (v. 7) and gives her a promise very similar to Abraham’s - that he will also make her “descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count” (Gen 16: 10).

The part I love, the part I needed to hear this week, is Hagar’s response. “You are the God who sees me” (Genesis 16: 13). Hagar gives God a name - The God who Sees. El Roi. God saw Hagar, a slave, a nobody in the society she was in.

He didn’t just see her as in “Hey - a person is walking over there in the desert. Huh. Weird.”

He SAW her. There is an implied knowing there, a recognition. His seeing moved Hagar to praise Him because he looked upon her. There is empathy, love, and understanding in His seeing of Hagar. God saw her mistreatment and heartache. He saw her need for provision. He saw her love for her unborn son. He saw her future path and how she fit in His plans.

As it was for Hagar, so it is for us. God sees me. He has seen every stinking bit of this week. He has known, has sat there with me when I cried, and been right beside me as I took things one breath at a time. As I waited for word on Nanny, he saw my worry and fear. As I barreled through motherhood, he saw my love, frustration, and concern. As I felt the weight of isolation, he was there - seeing and proving I wasn’t isolated at all.

He is the God who sees you, too.

The thing you’ve been praying for that hasn’t changed yet - He sees your disappointment and frustration and He’s loving you through the waiting.

The times you felt unappreciated and unimportant - He saw you, and in His sight, you are loved completely.

When you got that call or text, and your heart stopped and you didn’t have words for the fear or the pain - He saw you then too and He held you close.

As you almost buckle under the pressure of expectations and the never-ending to-do list, he sees you, and He will help carry your burden.

That moment you sat down for a minute just so the exhaustion didn’t beat you and pull you under, He saw you then too, and was ready to renew your strength.

It doesn’t make sense that God would see me in that way; that He would care that much about me. He is God, after all. But that’s why I love Him so much.

Even though He has the entire universe to care for, He is the God who sees me.

He is the God who sees you - and it is good to be truly seen.