10 November 2007


Okay, I'm sitting in Starbucks right now and I'm in awe of the busyness of the store. The holiday drinks and merchandise have just been put out and people are playing games, guitars, and batting their eyes in puppy love. Okay, maybe that's a little nauseating, but the point is that it's the place to be.

I've always wanted to be in 'the place to be' and usually have (not because of innate popularity, but rather popularity by association.) One thing I'm learning is that God wants me to be in a place of servanthood and that, although I enjoy these chic locations, there's so much beyond that. There's so much life to be lived outside the lime-light. I hurt for the people who live to be seen because I've lived so much of my life this way. I know what it's like to have to sculpt your movements, clothing, and words in such a way that the masses will look upon you and approve. I know what it's like to feel that what you have to offer isn't enough.

I've a growing heart for people that go unnoticed. Not just because I spent the summer out of the country, but because of people close to me as well. There's a girl that I encountered a few days ago that lives with a birth abnormality. Through no fault of her own, she has to live life largely unseen because her attractiveness takes a bit longer to recognize. Speaking with her for only a few moments, I could quickly see that she was bright, sweet, and fiercely giving. Her posture and eye contact spoke volumes about how she sees herself. You can tell she's used to feeling invisible. I don't know if her 'invisibility' is due to her physical attributes or if there's something more behind it, but I have a desire to get to know her. I want to listen to her life story and tell her she's deeply valuable to me and to God. She's gone too long without hearing that. I can't explain how I know this, but I do. I grieved for her because she has to work harder at being known and it looks like she's given up on that fight. She doesn't have the luxury of being born into a frame that we all value.

Sitting across from me at Starbucks now is a group of six people. They're probably a few years younger than I am and all of them are unfairly attractive people. I can sense that they're a group that wants little do with the awkward and unpopular. They're laughing and dropping valuable words like 'Myspace', 'Prada' and 'iPhone' (the kind of words that I have felt a narcotic buzz from publicly uttering.) They want so badly to be as valuable as the things they speak of, wear or wield. What I want more than to be accepted by this group of commercial socialites, is to be sitting here with that shy, lovely girl; to listen to her story and know her. Even more, I wish the people across from me would want the same thing. My dream is that one day, all seven of us would collectively lean into her, hear her every word and be captivated by her beauty.

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