"You See Me, My Becky?"

I have a nephew. And if you know me at all, you know I'm positively cah-razy about him. He could get me to do just about anything, simply by asking in his sweet little voice. My wonderful little nephew just turned two. He has so much energy, personality, and willpower and is learning how to communicate. I love the way he says so many different things and the non-verbal cues that he's been learning (side note: I love skype). I've taught him all the important words such as "cookie," "candy," "chocolate," and "cake" (which, as I'm sure you can imagine, my sister just loooves). He's been saying my name for a while now, which I've tried to cultivate from the time he was three months old with the "buh...buh...buh...buh" repetitions (I started early; I'm an over-achiever, what can I say?). Anyway, he can say my name. Kind of. I'm "Backy." It's precious, and I love it.

"Hi, Backy!" (which he'll repeat at least a dozen times throughout one conversation, often following a period of silence about four seconds long)

"You hear me, my Backy?"

"You see me, my Backy?"

He'll say them right in the middle of our conversations, as I'm talking to him. He'll even repeat the questions again right after I smile and assure him "I see you." "I hear you."

Immediately I'm struck that this is familiar-- I do this too. He's simply voicing the questions that echo within me, maybe within all of us. Do You really see me? Do You really hear me? And then I hear the whisper...

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
you are still with me!

(Psalm 139:15-18, NLT)

These are not only questions to a supernatural being, however. I think we all ask them of those with whom we interact every day. I recently took a couple kids that I watch in the afternoons to a park to play. While there, two adorable little girls came up to me and started talking to me about anything and everything. What started out as facts here and there turned into non-stop chatter. I could practically hear their souls aching, Do you see us? Do you hear us? Please show us we matter. Their dad was sitting on a bench in the shade, and I knew that he was getting suspicious about this lady who was sitting there talking to his kids. I kept doing my best to give off the "I swear I am not initiating this and I promise I'm a nice person who won't do anything to your kids" vibe, but he called the oldest little girl over and she came back instructing her little sister that dad said not to talk to strangers. They walked away to play on another part of the playground, but again I was reminded of this need for our value to be recognized. And the truth is I don't do this enough. In my pursuit of blending into the background I'd prefer to let people walk by me without putting the effort into making sure they feel their value. But I find myself convicted; I must do this. After all, isn't that exactly what Christ did? He saw people. He truly saw them. And he made them feel their worth.

So that's my challenge for me and for you. Recognize the value of those around you and make sure they know. See those children who are aching to know they matter. And know that you matter. Immensely.