To be recognized. To be acknowledged. To be known. What is it about being known that so enraptures our hearts? It’s intimate, not in a sexual sense but in the sense that it is familiar, comfortable. It makes one feel cared for, respected, honored.
It’s when somebody I met with once, talked with once, spent time with once sees me on the bus and stops to catch up–when she just as easily could be studying or reading the newspaper or staring into space as we normally all do. But she didn’t. She remembers me and she cares. I am known.
It’s when I’m walking on campus and see a familiar face. I know them, but I don’t know if they know me. Perhaps I’ve slipped under the radar screen and they mind me not. But then they raise their hand, acknowledge me with a wave–and I’m known and it feels wonderful.
It’s when I go to Bible Study and share my heart into what sometimes seems like the void, and the next day I have a couple messages on Facebook from my Bible Study friends asking how it’s going. And then someone calls to encourage me. I am known, and those that know me care.
It’s when I go to Greekside, feeling a bit out of place but so desperately needing a chance to worship with the body, and someone begs to sit next to me and asks me about life and prays for me. Then I feel recognized, cared for, known.
It’s when I’m sitting at the bus stop and someone stops to chat. He could ignore me–we don’t know each other well enough that I’d feel slighted if he did. But he didn’t, and it does my heart good. I am known.
Some have said that one of the greatest desires of a woman’s heart is to be known. I don’t know how I feel about issuing this as a blanket statement, but I do know that it holds true in my own experiences. That’s why when I was walking across campus today, not paying attention to anything or anyone, and someone called out my name, got my attention to say Hi, it made my day. Because it lets my heart know that I’m known.