Seen and Unseen

I love going to the supermarket. All those apples and peppers and bananas and eggs. All that bread and cheese and tea and kombucha. So much to choose from. I am enormously grateful that I get to go to the supermarket and buy what my family needs - and more than that, to buy many of the things we want. What a gift. What a blessing.

My favorite local supermarket is the Trader Joe's that is just over a mile from our house. Over the past few years, we have thought about selling our home and downsizing, moving out of the suburbs, out of our rather insulated neighborhood, closer to where there is more activity here in Charlotte, closer to uptown, closer to we go to church. But one of the main things that holds us back is that we love how convenient it is for us to get to Trader Joe's.

There is a man who works at Trader Joe's, an African man, whose country of origin and name I cannot recall (my memory is fading day by day). He is one of the friendliest people I know. It seems like every time I am in the store, he will come over and say hello. He asks how my husband is doing and how our children are doing. And he readily shares that his children are growing up, eating more and more every day. I remind him that he's working in the right place to solve that problem! When I am shopping in the store and he is working in the store, I know that I am seen.

This morning, as I walked through the store, sure enough, he greeted me. Warmly. What a kind man.

This morning, as I walked through the store, sure enough, I was reminded that I am sometimes unseen. Or perhaps seen and unseen.

As I scanned the shelves with the baking items - sugar, vanilla, flour, but no sweetened condensed milk - I noticed that a woman a few feet away looked at me - and then she turned and grabbed her purse out of her carriage. Once she found what she was looking for, she put it and her purse back into the carriage, and then she walked away.

I would imagine that she wouldn't consider herself to be racist. Or ignorant. Or blind.
But she looked directly at me. She saw me. She saw brown skin. She saw short hair.
She decided that her purse and its contents were not safe in my proximity, and so she grabbed it.

She saw me. At the same time, she was blind to me.
She knew nothing about me, other than what her eyes saw.
And she reacted to that by protecting her stuff.

To be fair, I am making all kinds of assumptions about what she saw and thought.
But I know what I saw and what I thought.
I saw her act in an offensive, hurtful, insulting manner towards me.

I was soooooooo tempted to ask her why she did what she did: what prompted her to remove her purse from the carriage at exactly that moment? It had to be me, because as soon as she moved away from me, she put it back into her carriage - but again, that's my assumption.
I was soooooooo tempted to tell her that she didn't have anything I wanted or needed.
But I said nothing.
I walked away. Angry.
Seen and unseen.

Two aisles later, a man and two children approached me. The man and the older child with him were each pushing shopping carts. The child wasn't paying attention to where he was going and steered his cart in my direction. I stopped so that he would have room to redirect his cart and go past me. The boy looked up at me and apologized for almost hitting my cart. The man spoke to the child, "Watch where you're going, _______ (once again, I can't remember what name he spoke.) We need to let this gentleman pass."

What? Me? I am no gentleman. I literally laughed out loud.
Like the woman I had encountered only moments before, the man saw brown skin.
He saw short hair. But he did not see me.
I'm wearing five earrings. FIVE!
I know that men wear earrings, but they don't usually wear dangling earrings in both ears.
And even if I weren't wearing all these earrings, I want to believe that my face looks like the face of a woman. My body, flat chested though I am, is the body of a woman.
I am a woman - and those _____________ almost heard me roar at Trader Joe's today.
I give the children credit because both of them did something of a double take when the man, who I assume was their father, said what he said.
I am most definitely NOT a gentleman.
Once again, I said nothing.
Once again, I walked away. Angry.
Seen and unseen.


I came home and I knew that I had to write about those two incidents.
About being seen and unseen.
I was angry. I'm still angry.

But after a few deep breaths and a few choice words thrown around in my kitchen as I unpacked my groceries, it hit me.
How often do I do the same thing?
How often do I encounter people and not see them?
Or see them and make assumptions about them based on the most superficial criteria?

How often do I make assumptions about the relationships between people when I see them together? Parents and children? Spouses? Friends? Lovers? Co-workers? How can I possibly know?

How often do I misgender people?
How often do I make assumptions about people's sexual identity and expression?
Just a few moments ago, I wrote that I have the face and the body of a woman.
What does that even mean? What kinds of assumptions do I need to make in order to even write that?

How often do I assume that people who "look Latino" are in fact Latino and that they want to speak in Spanish? What does "Latino" even mean?
How often do I assume that people who "look Asian" were not born in the United States?
How many times have I asked people, "Where are you from?"

How often have I assumed that people in wheelchairs need my help?

How often do I assume that white people in pick up trucks are racist members of the NRA?

How often does my heartbeat rise when I see a police car approach?
How often do I check to see if the car that has been stopped by the police or highway patrol is driven by a person of color?

How often do I assume racist, sexist, classist motives for the things people say and do in my presence? 

And how many times have my assumptions about the people around me offended or angered them?


I got my ego handed to me once outside of that very same Trader Joe's a few months ago.
I approached a young woman who was bald and asked her if she was in treatment for kanswer.
Before she even answered, I told her that I had had kanswer too, and I wished her well in her treatment.
She thanked me for my concern, explained she had alopecia, but she said she was glad that I am on the other side of the kanswer journey. Ouch!

On a retreat in Kanuga last November, I insisted on helping a woman with her suitcase because I had made an assumption that she wasn't able to handle it herself. She had packed and transported that suitcase without my help. She had traveled there from thousands of miles away without my help.  But I assumed that, because her body didn't look like my body (as though my body is a standard!) she needed my help. I still cringe when I think about how proudly I displayed my ableist prejudice. I wrote her a note and apologized for my idiocy. I hope she has forgiven me.


I will leave my home in the not too distant future and head to a small town outside of Charlotte to watch my beloved son play tennis. He is one of the brightest lights in my life, and I thoroughly look forward to seeing him and hugging him and watching him on the tennis court. As I drive south and east, however, I will pay attention to the assumptions I make about the people I see in the cars and trucks around me. I will try to notice how quickly I decide about the origins of the people I see, the worth of the people I see, the intelligence of the people I see, the socio-economic status of the people I see.


I hope and pray that I will be just as angry at my own habit of "seeing and not seeing" the people around me as I was about being seen and unseen in Trader Joe's this morning.

Thankful Thursday - Ten Things

I think I've mentioned Alisha Sommer before. I hope so. She has inspired me in my journaling a lot lately. Keeping it simple - ten things. everyday. tell your story in lists of ten. groups of ten.

So here goes.

1. I have rediscovered the humor and wisdom, the moans and groans, the cynicism and the deep faith of Anne Lamott. I had the honor of hearing her speak in person last April (thank you, Gibbs) and I have started the book I received that night - Hallelujah Anyway - Rediscovering Mercy - twice before. I started it again yesterday and it feels like this time I might actually get through it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the book. It's me. I have been struggling of late to not do work for seminary. To put the books away and to put my computer away. To not read ancient texts and ponder Biblical Hebrew. My insistence on trying to be the perfect student has kept me from doing a lot of things. Reading for pleasure is one of the them. Exercising regularly is another. Blogging is another. Gotta get my act back together and remember that I am much more than only a seminary student. Anyway, is there such a thing as a perfect student? If there is, is "being a perfect student" my goal? or is my goal to prepare to serve and teach, to walk alongside and come up behind the people I am in community with? is my goal to listen and learn, to dream and pray, to grow and be transformed so that I can accompany others on their faith journeys, as they too listen and learn, dream and pray, grow and be transformed by the Spirit of the Living God?

2. Greeting cards for 99 cents at Trader Joe's. Please don't ever spend more than 99 cents on a greeting card for me. Better yet, just grab an index card or a plain sheet of paper, and handwrite the note. In your own words. It's is only greed that prompts card companies to charge $5.99, $6.99, or $7.99 or more for a single greeting card. Even the best card, the most poetic, the most perfectly worded card is not worth $8! So go to Trader Joe's and stock up on birthday cards, friendship cards, sympathy cards, wedding cards, new baby cards, all kinds of cards so that you don't have to rush out and overspend at the last minute. They have quite the colorful and creative collection.

3. Green grapes for 99 cents a pound this week at Harris Teeter. Yum yum.

4. Preparing to preach. Doing the reading. the thinking. the praying. the writing. listening for a word for the people from the Word of God. All I want to do is honor the One who is the source of my life and the center my joy. (For those in the Charlotte area, I'm gonna be preaching at noon at Wednesday Worship at First Presbyterian Church on April 4th, the Wednesday after Easter. We will have greeted each other with "He is Risen. He is Risen indeed." We will have celebrated the good news of new life, of resurrection, of life after death. We will have put the Easter dresses and Easter hats and Easter baskets away. What do you do after such a triumph, such a victory? That's what I'm planning to explore. Be there or be square.)

5. Virginia - one of the most faithful readers of this blog. I met her at church when we were still living up in Connecticut, and she sends me email responses to things I write here. She sends links to articles and explains how something I wrote speaks to something she has been thinking about or dealing with. Thank you, Virginia, for your encouragement and support. Stay warm up there.

6. a good haircut. I've found a fantastic barber. He keeps me looking sharp and also gives me great ideas on how to eat well and exercise too. I love when people in my life encourage me and teach me on topics that don't directly relate to what they do, but they recognize that our lives are not divided into separate categories. I am one person, living one life.

7. finding Moleskine journals on sale at Target. Actually my husband found them.

8. Black Panther. I've seen it twice. I'm not normally a fan of super hero movies. I'm not normally someone who goes to see a movie in the theater twice. But I couldn't help myself with this one. And I will certainly buy it when it comes out on DVD. So good. Go see it. Go see it. Go see it. And ignore all the criticism and the haters. They are just jealous!

9. being seen. being heard. being made to feel welcome. while walking with a friend. while sipping tea. while talking about a job possibility. in the pulpit. in the classroom. at home. in church.

10, my son. my beloved son. check him out. doing his thing. making us proud.

11. drinking tea out of big mugs - even as I am weaning myself off of honey in my tea. I'm trying to cut out as much sugar from my diet as I can. But don't worry - I still have the occasional cookie and piece of chocolate. and when there is bourbon in the vicinity, I will like to pour some ginger ale in it and sip it slowly.

12. heat and hot water and electricity. too many people in Puerto Rico are still without power, months after Hurricane Maria. And with the heavy snow that has fallen on the east coast, hundreds of thousands are without power tonight. I am grateful. May I never take these things for granted. Never ever.

13. solitude and silence. when I don't take enough time to get away, to withdraw from my life, to breathe, to write, to think, I feel pain in my soul. heart ache. I'm going back to the Jesuit Center this July. to be with God. to walk. to journal. to pray. a lot. to breathe. to swim. to sleep.

14. Gus. an older man from Greece who lived in a house around the corner from us. A kind man. Thick accent. Big smile. He walked nearly every day - in rain, in sunshine, on cold days, on hot days, in long pants, in shorts, with a hat, with gloves, with a hood, in a baseball cap. He would stop and sit on people's rock walls to rest. He would watch traffic go by and wave at drivers.  he had a heart condition, but nothing stopped him from his morning exercise. he was attacked by a dog in a nearby neighborhood one day while out on his morning walk, so after that, he carried a stick with him for a brief while. He would talk to me when he saw me outside. A few years ago, he asked why I had cut off my hair. I told him about my kanswer journey. Since that conversation, whenever he saw me, he would ask me about my health and how I was doing. Truly he was the kind of man I wish my children could have had for a grandfather figure after my own father passed away. Several weeks ago, I noticed that I hadn't seen him out walking for a while. A neighbor told me that he died. He contracted pneumonia and passed away. I miss him. I miss his gentleness and his kindness. I am glad I took the time to stop and talk to him as often as I did. I am grateful that he cared about me enough to ask how I was doing.

15. I guess I had more than ten things to be thankful for.
Thanks be to God.