God Speaks Through Graffiti

In high school, I never really fit in.  Teens are insecure, but I was even more so because I went from seventh grade straight into ninth grade, and unlike everyone else, I did not have any friends in my classes that I knew since kindergarten.  I knew hardly anyone, and that was my freshman year.  

I remember at times feeling invisible.  I remember wishing I was well-liked and had friends, instead of being the awkward girl who was too smart to be in eighth and too uncool to hang out with the freshmen.  (I tagged along with my brother's friends, who were juniors.  My brother pretended he did not know me.)  

One day, it had just been too much for me—emotions and life—and at times in high school I suffered from suicidal thoughts.  I told God, “Lord, if anyone sees me—let them speak now; let me have even one small gesture of kindness.”  I needed to know.

I waited all day, and no one spoke, no one did anything.  I felt lonelier, and more self-conscious than ever. 

Then, in my weight training class, I finally had it.  I’ve never really been athletic, and I had trouble benching the bar (without any weights on it).  I told myself that I'd had it.  I didn’t know what I’d do, though my thoughts veered toward ending my life that night since I was so insignificant and no one cared.

Then, when I sat down on the sit-up bench to knock out fifty crunches, I saw something before me that made me speechless.   There, on the wall, someone had written in pencil, “I see you.” 

Those words, a joke to unnerve whoever might be trying to cheat on their pushups, resounded through my soul.  I knew it was God who said them; it was God that prompted whoever wrote it to pen the words, just so that I might know that He cared.

I still struggle sometimes in regards to acceptance and self-worth, but inside, this memory serves as a reminder that no matter where I am, and how invisible I feel, I am significant to God.

While my problems are insignificant when compared to the happenings of the cosmos, God has time for me.  While I am one of 5 billion people, and however many more people that lived on the earth before my time, God knows me by name.  He knows the number of hairs on my head.  He collects my every tear.

If you struggle with feeling small and significant and just need one small gesture, see the graffiti on the wall in my gym class.  God says to you, too, “I see you.”