The Invisible Child

“A name is missing.” I thought to myself as I updated the birthday list for Tupelo Children’s Mansion. “How many times does it take checking and rechecking to figure out which child I am forgetting?” Finally after checking the resident list I saw whose name it was and added her. She was the same child I couldn’t remember last month when I reorganized the ‘Update Letter Group’ record. “That was strange”, I thought. But considering the busy schedule we have forgetting sometimes was understandable. Today as I walked across campus the girls from one residence hall met me, and stopped to talk. After chatting a few minutes and returning to work I started writing down the names of the children for the photographer to order their photos. Recalling their faces, one seemed to be missing. “The girls were just talking to me. Who wasn’t with them?” Then I found out, she was there all the time, I just didn’t see her. How can I look at children but one seems invisible? Sympathetically, and uncomfortably I speculate, “Has she always been invisible at home, at school, at church, or wherever else she has gone? How often has her heart cried out to be noticed, to be loved, to be important to someone? She isn’t tall and slim, short and fat, stunningly beautiful, nothing that grabs your attention, nor does she have a charismatic, outgoing, or fun personality. I notice nothing that reaches out to people, at least, not visibly. I am not saying the child is or ever has been neglected, but has she always seemed invisible? And if she has, how many other children in our world feel the same? How often have I seen but not seen someone? Could I recount to you the numerous people I have heard, but not heard? Fortunately for them, they are far from invisible to God, but I want to see them when I look, and truly listen when they speak, the same as He does.