I haven’t had much experience with being invisible, until a few days ago.

I was attending a conference in California, and sat down at a round lunch table between sessions and began a very enjoyable conversation with a couple of other attenders.  Then, two others joined the table.  The gentleman sat directly to my left, the lady, directly to my right.  They were already deeply engaged in a rather intense (and loud) conversation.

I found myself a little closer to both of these individuals than I’d prefer, both sitting so close our elbows were almost touching, both leaning in to express their interest in each other’s thoughts and opinions.  I sat there for a few strange moments, their faces uncomfortably close to mine, weighing my options.  Should I offer to switch seats?  Should I excuse myself and leave?  Should I introduce myself?  “Hi, I’m Jonathan… a person at the table…”

And then it hit me.  This is what it feels like to be invisible.  This is what it feels like to be around someone who is so completely absorbed in something else that they literally can’t see you.

Then I asked myself: how often have I inspired my wife Wendy  or my two little daughters to feel this way?

[bctt tweet=”Obsession in one area of life requires disconnection in others.”]

I’m a person who easily becomes “project obsessed,” meaning that I tend to fixate on whatever project inspires me most at the moment.  The problem with fixation, though, is that it requires exclusion.  The more you become obsessed with one part of your life, the more you must leave out other parts… sometimes very important parts.

Now, reflecting on this idea, I remember too many moments that I’ve found myself sitting at my computer, passionately staring at the fifth or sixth draft of some piece of writing, vaguely recognizing that my wife was trying to say something to me, knowing that I only really heard the last two or three words.  Or how many times my little girls would try to tell me something about their day only to have to repeat it once I actually recognized they were trying to say something to me.

I don’t think I really understood before what it feels like to be invisible.  It’s disorienting, aggravating, and, in close relationships, downright painful.

[bctt tweet=”Invisibility in relationships is disorienting, aggravating, and downright painful.”]

How will the most important parts of my life manage to get my attention?  And, if they don’t, how will those who love me the most remind me that they need to be included, involved, heard and acknowledged?  I don’t want to wait until my daughter has to say to me: “Hi dad, I’m Cheyenne, a person in this family…” to get my attention.  I don’t want my wife to feel she needs to offer to “switch seats” with my career or my hobbies.  Some of my “conversations” can wait in line behind what’s most important.

And while we’re at it…

I find myself asking… How does Jesus feel, sitting at my table?