Do you ever feel like you’ve accidentally put on Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak?
A few years ago a couple of people made an appointment with me. I didn’t know what their agenda was. When we met all they did was ask me questions about a painful experience.
And then they listened.
And asked more questions. And listened some more.
They asked, “and then what happened?” and “how did you feel?” and “oh no!” and “what can we do?” like it really made a difference to them.
And here’s the thing. Yes, what was asked and answered was important, but the most transformative thing for our relationship was that when I walked away I didn’t feel invisible anymore. It felt like I mattered. What I thought, what I felt, the pain I had experienced made a difference to them. Have you had an experience like this?
A few years ago my husband and I had the opportunity to spend some time with former President Clinton in a couple different contexts (no he would not remember my name!). Regardless of what you think about his politics or his morals, here’s a man who makes people feel like they matter.
We were wrapping up an interview with him when he saw an African American guy with a saxophone that was about 189 years old in a back hallway. Clinton got so excited asking this guy about the brand of sax he played, and the type he used to play, and the music he liked. He laughed and they swapped sax stories and he asked questions and really listened.
Clinton was so present it was hard for his handlers to tear him away. One of the most powerful men in the world. And he was saying to this man, “I may be the president of the United States, but you matter too.”
This is Joe.
He’s a guy with Down’s Syndrome who has a great smile and a can-do spirit. He’s the guy who sweeps the stairs at exactly the same time every morning at my health club. When I first asked his name he looked scared, like he had done something wrong.
When I thank him each day for his great work he always looks a little surprised. Today I took another step and asked him, “Joe, how long have you worked here? Do you like your job?”
I’ve noticed Joe. I’ve tried to let him know he matters. But how many others do I miss during the day who are longing to be noticed? Feeling like they’re accidentally wearing and invisibility cloak?
What if Jesus hadn’t looked up to see Zaccheus? What if He hadn’t taken time to talk to the woman who touched the hem of His robe?
When is a time when someone made you feel like you mattered? Who are the people you tend to overlook? Who would feel affirmed if you asked a question and listened?
