So the little one says to me, ‘This is the best night ever, I don’t want it to end!’ When I ask her why she shrugs her shoulders, ‘I don’t know, it was fun’.
I think to myself, ‘What did we do that was so fun?’ She showed me her sword, her fencing gear – explained how it all works. We sat together in front of the fire eating toasted marshmallows. She told me that she likes to read adventures, mysteries and the Faraway Tree. She told me about her science experiments and showed me her home-made lava lamp. She told me that she wanted to be a scientist and an author-illustrator when she grows up. I sat quietly and watched her draw me a picture. I wouldn’t particularly describe all that as fun, so… what was it?
Perhaps it was because she could be herself, share herself… and someone noticed. Thus, she became “significant and unique… permanently meaningful” (Anthony Bloom).
How often do we do this? How often do we bother to ‘see’ the other, to say ‘Hey? I see you. You exist. You are unique and unrepeatable. There is no one else like you. I don’t see your ‘good’ attributes or your achievements. Neither do I comprehend your failures or shortcomings. All I see is you. All I hear is you. I see your icon and I hear your music.