It was an afternoon of feeling strangely small.
I had just finished hosting a bridal party for a dear friend, and as I pulled away from my house alone to go to church, I blinked my tears as I wondered if there would be a day when my friends would ever gather around me to celebrate. By the time I swallowed my tears, I stepped into church, where my single self slipped into the back, taking up one measly chair in the midst of burgeoning families that spilled out into every aisle, unable to be contained in the small rows.
Do I even matter? I thought. Does anybody see me? I just feel so small.
On average, I don’t feel small in moments like these (I am, after all, 5'11" on a regular basis...). But they happen so quickly and even unexpectedly, those Small Moments. The moments that creep in around us, shrinking our shoulders in, pulling our heads down, and pressing our significance into a small puddle on the floor.
These Small Moments come when we feel lonely, when we make mistakes, when our career doesn’t look like we thought it would. Small Moments come when our family has trouble, when our kids don't listen, when God seems silent, when we have a hard day. And Small Moments almost always come when we wonder if our life even makes a difference.
Do we matter? Are we seen? Because sometimes we just feel so small.
In the past two weeks, my days have been spent almost solely with college students…young women and men who are technically just one bobbing head in the backpack-laden sea of 12,000 fast-moving people. They are swimming along in the vastness of this ocean of a campus, often treading water amidst the waves of finances, homework, loneliness, work, friendships and relationships…and the never-ceasing question of what they will do with the rest of their lives. And my days are spent with them in those waves.
So what do I do when students share about family issues that are wrenchingly hard? What do I do they feel completely inadequate to determine their career path? What do I do when break-ups break up their hearts? What do I do when they seem to feel so small, so unknown, so insignificant?
I listen. I nod. I wait. I look them in the eyes.
And then, after awhile, I tell them that they matter. That they are seen.
Because. I want to them to feel and know that they are wildly and unabashedly significant.
I like the word “significant.” It takes four syllables before it finishes rolling off your tongue – that’s four hand claps and practically two whole seconds. It sounds important, substantial, even regal. It is the very opposite of feeling small. And I like that when the truths of significance promenade forward, I get the privilege of watching shoulders straighten, of watching eyes get wide, of watching smiles blossom.
Why do I want the people around me to feel their significance? Because so often when I feel small, when I feel stressed, when I feel worried, when I feel lonely…I don’t need someone to fix the problem or wave away the worry.
I simply want to know that I matter. That I am seen. And that I am significant.
That Sunday in church, I heard a whisper: “Amy, you matter so much to me.” The Holy Spirit was kind that day in offering a well-timed reminder of my significance. Because after all, God made me, so I probably matter to him just a bit.
We are significant. Four syllables worth of significant. Four hand-claps worth of significant. Two straight shoulders worth of significant and one bolstered spirit worth of significant. Why? Because we were designed by the Creator of the Universe who tends even to the smallest nest of a bird. And He has deemed us significant.
So today, know that you, too, matter. That you are seen. That you are significant. Know that you are not small or invisible or unimportant. Instead, you are a wildly and unabashedly significant person.
And one more thing about today…tell someone else that they matter, too. That they are significant. Maybe you’re not a words person. So give someone a hug or a manly thump on the back. Look into their eyes when you ask them how they are doing and then actually stand there and listen. Send a text or email for no reason except to tell someone that they have value. Invite someone to come with you on a run or to the grocery store or to help fix your car. Because we need to know that we matter. That we are seen. And that we are significant.
The four-syllable, four hand-claps kind of significant.
I had just finished hosting a bridal party for a dear friend, and as I pulled away from my house alone to go to church, I blinked my tears as I wondered if there would be a day when my friends would ever gather around me to celebrate. By the time I swallowed my tears, I stepped into church, where my single self slipped into the back, taking up one measly chair in the midst of burgeoning families that spilled out into every aisle, unable to be contained in the small rows.
Do I even matter? I thought. Does anybody see me? I just feel so small.
On average, I don’t feel small in moments like these (I am, after all, 5'11" on a regular basis...). But they happen so quickly and even unexpectedly, those Small Moments. The moments that creep in around us, shrinking our shoulders in, pulling our heads down, and pressing our significance into a small puddle on the floor.
These Small Moments come when we feel lonely, when we make mistakes, when our career doesn’t look like we thought it would. Small Moments come when our family has trouble, when our kids don't listen, when God seems silent, when we have a hard day. And Small Moments almost always come when we wonder if our life even makes a difference.
Do we matter? Are we seen? Because sometimes we just feel so small.
In the past two weeks, my days have been spent almost solely with college students…young women and men who are technically just one bobbing head in the backpack-laden sea of 12,000 fast-moving people. They are swimming along in the vastness of this ocean of a campus, often treading water amidst the waves of finances, homework, loneliness, work, friendships and relationships…and the never-ceasing question of what they will do with the rest of their lives. And my days are spent with them in those waves.
So what do I do when students share about family issues that are wrenchingly hard? What do I do they feel completely inadequate to determine their career path? What do I do when break-ups break up their hearts? What do I do when they seem to feel so small, so unknown, so insignificant?
I listen. I nod. I wait. I look them in the eyes.
And then, after awhile, I tell them that they matter. That they are seen.
Because. I want to them to feel and know that they are wildly and unabashedly significant.
I like the word “significant.” It takes four syllables before it finishes rolling off your tongue – that’s four hand claps and practically two whole seconds. It sounds important, substantial, even regal. It is the very opposite of feeling small. And I like that when the truths of significance promenade forward, I get the privilege of watching shoulders straighten, of watching eyes get wide, of watching smiles blossom.
Why do I want the people around me to feel their significance? Because so often when I feel small, when I feel stressed, when I feel worried, when I feel lonely…I don’t need someone to fix the problem or wave away the worry.
I simply want to know that I matter. That I am seen. And that I am significant.
That Sunday in church, I heard a whisper: “Amy, you matter so much to me.” The Holy Spirit was kind that day in offering a well-timed reminder of my significance. Because after all, God made me, so I probably matter to him just a bit.
We are significant. Four syllables worth of significant. Four hand-claps worth of significant. Two straight shoulders worth of significant and one bolstered spirit worth of significant. Why? Because we were designed by the Creator of the Universe who tends even to the smallest nest of a bird. And He has deemed us significant.
So today, know that you, too, matter. That you are seen. That you are significant. Know that you are not small or invisible or unimportant. Instead, you are a wildly and unabashedly significant person.
And one more thing about today…tell someone else that they matter, too. That they are significant. Maybe you’re not a words person. So give someone a hug or a manly thump on the back. Look into their eyes when you ask them how they are doing and then actually stand there and listen. Send a text or email for no reason except to tell someone that they have value. Invite someone to come with you on a run or to the grocery store or to help fix your car. Because we need to know that we matter. That we are seen. And that we are significant.
The four-syllable, four hand-claps kind of significant.