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When I decided to start this blog about a month ago, I had grand visions of whimsically (pun intended) writing away, sitting on the deck with a pink lemonade, my computer and a cool breeze.  The children, of course, would be occupied–sitting quietly coloring, perhaps doing homework, maybe reading quietly in their beds.

Okay, maybe for one minute I thought that’s how it might go.

But really, I did think I’d find more time for this!  I could tell you I was tied up, spinning plates, juggling life, putting irons in the fire, on the go…

I could tell you lots of things.  But really, I was just busy.

I hate that though–the idea that being busy is somehow an excuse to not do the things we love to do, the things we want to do.  I hate the idea that somehow someone somewhere thinks that I am busier than they are…I’m not.  It’s relative.  We are all busy.  It’s true.  It doesn’t mean we don’t have time to be authentic, to be real.

It sure seems like when it comes down to it busy isn’t what we are, it’s how we live.  

But that’s not what this post is all about, we’ve read the posts and blogs and articles about “busy”.  It’s not new.

What I want to write about is this–this question I’ve been wondering about lately…

Is how we live (busy) preventing us from being real?

Whoa—“hold up” you’re saying.  “I didn’t come here to get all deep and weird in this blog post.  Let’s keep things surface level.  I don’t have time for this….”

Ha–see there?  See what you did?  You started to decide that you were too busy to go there.   And that’s exactly what I mean.

When is the last time you were at the grocery store and you stopped to really think about the person that was scanning your groceries? Not often right?

We hustle into the store, we breeze past the employees, we bark to the man at the meat counter  “6 lbs of chicken breats, packed in 2 lb packages!” (hey, I have 6 kids…)  We load the conveyer belt, we dig through our bags and give orders to the kids—30 minutes to get home and make something to eat before soccer practice.

(And if you’re me, right about now is when one child starts literally licking the handle of the grocery cart (omg…rabies!! That’s how they get rabies right?  Wait or is it hepatitis?  Strep? Oh Lord…I forgot about Ebola…there could be EBOLA on the cart!!)  while another is eating something they found stuck to the SIDE of wheel while yet another is literally reaching down into her diaper to inform me that “something is in there!”

But I digress.  Okay, back on track.

So all the while, here is this person, working for you–helping you by scanning your groceries, bagging your groceries, taking your money, ensuring things price correctly.   And you haven’t even spoken to them except to maybe say “yes, I found everything okay” or “yes, I have my Fuel Saver card”.

Have you looked at them? Have you smiled? Have you acknowledged that you saw them last week? That they helped you then as well? Did you notice they got new uniforms? That they got their braces off? That they had their hair cut?

Probably not.  Me neither.

But I tell you what, I have really started to think about something that I just feel the need to share…

I’m wondering, if perhaps…The way that we are living is preventing us from connecting with each other.  

Getting too deep for you?  Well, hold on to your britches, I’m about to take us deeper.

There is a man I’ve noticed at my office.  I know what department he works in–I’ve seem him for years.  He is always kind, he is always gracious, he is always professional.  And yet, I get the sense that he IS that grocery clerk–the job that he works in is more service based, he sees people for a moment and then they are on their way.  People see him, but they don’t See him.  Know what I mean?

I’ve never seen anyone really stop to talk to him and yet day after day, year after year, he’s been there.  Doing his job…smiling…helping.

He knows my name.  I’m not sure how, but he does. And I know his.  We greet each other by name, I go on my way.  This week, I said hello to him, he greeted me back.

But, (if I’m being honest) really I just heard him greet me as I was walking away–my back to him.  I was in a hurry…I was busy.

We have a recognition system at work where we can send notes out to fellow employees and their leaders, recognizing them for the things they do.  This week, I decided to recognize him for knowing people’s names–for opening doors–for being professional and courteous..every. single. day.

I sent that note and not long after received a reply from this man.

He thanked me for the note.  He said that he loved his job and he loved the company we work for.  He said that the note made him start to tear up–that  he would remember it always. That it was exactly what he needed to hear that day.

Why am I telling you this??  Am I telling you so you can say “oh what a nice thing to do!  How kind of you!”  No, absolutely not–please don’t say that, I don’t want to hear that.

I’m telling you this because in all this “busy”, I’m afraid that all of us are walking right by people that need to connect. That WANT to connect.

And even more than that –WE are people that need to connect. WE are people that need to be vulnerable with each other–to let each other know that we are all important.

And that “busy” is not an excuse.  

I’m not suggesting that every time you see a friend out and about that you start hugging it out, hashing out every deep dark emotion that’s been weighing on you both for years.  Not even.  (That would rank WAY WAY up there on the awkward scale–but if that floats your boat…I guess go for it…)

But what I am suggesting is that maybe we all just take an extra minute to make someone know that you See them.

See them, with a capital S.

Send that email to say thank you…Write that positive letter to that company about a job well done by one of their employees…Look that cashier in the eye, find out their name…Give that 20% (or **gasp** 30%) tip…Give an old friend a real hug.

Thank that man that knows your name at the office…

After all, we all just want to be Seen, right?

Or…..are we just too busy?

(P.S.  I promise, I’ll bring it back to sea level next time…)