Making the Stranger Visible

 

After growing up often feeling like a misfit, even (or especially) in my school and family, I found myself drawn to travel, where I felt less lonely being a stranger in a far land where I was not expected to fit into a place in society. I thought of myself as a loner, an introvert, with few abilities to fit in. However, my dissatisfaction with that life … my seeking to fill the God-shaped hole I didn’t know was in me … emerged when, traveling in England one cold and dismal winter, I watched Church of England priests stride towards the cathedral I had come to visit. I felt an impulse to run up and ask their help with my unformed questions. Imagine their surprise to have a backpacker run up and ask, not where a famous poet is buried, but the meaning of life!

I did suppress that impulse but, returning to North America and working in New York City, I wrote this -

Lament of the Invisible

The elevator stops and opens

but no one moves aside

their eyes are focused elsewhere

ignore my wish to ride

when I go in, a woman turns

to another, not to me

“How rude not to excuse oneself!

How selfish can one be?”

no one sees me waiting

when I want to cross the street

traffic roars across my path

they’ve someone else to meet

I dash across to blaring horns

cars swerving left and right

I wish the drivers would tell me

if they swerved for a visible sight

I know that I’m transparent

a drop in urban sprawl

umbrellas rise like barriers

On someone might I fall?

I am the invisible, yearning

for a voice from the other end

“Come, in, I’ve been waiting

to know you as a friend

to be reflected in other’s eyes

hold outstretched hand, be hugged or kissed

be welcomed in

and know that I exist!

After returning to North America and living in Bennington, Vermont, my husband and I woke one Sunday with the idea to go to church.  We chose the nearest one that we knew of – Second Congregational. Pastor Mary Lee-Clark’s sermon impressed and moved me – especially how she wove so many strands from different traditions and even from modern writers into her message. The other thing that stands out for me from that first experience was being warmly welcomed by members of the congregation.

At first, church just meant going to worship for an hour on Sunday. Then someone asked me to help with a church project. This was a new avenue into the church’s life – something beyond the hour on Sunday morning. I agreed, in large part because I thought I might learn something. I was right! Folks offered to help but no one micromanaged my endeavor.

Sometimes I stop and find myself amazed that I am accepted in that community, that I do have a niche. I have found I am energized by involvement in a church family where I’ve found opportunities to explore faith, to live it and to grow. I have said “Yes” to some challenges while feeling free to decline others. SCC is a church that has helped me grow into more than I was before and where I feel I belong.

Lorna Cheriton