Standing in line at a concession stand, I noticed a small child in a parent harness. He couldn’t have been more than two years old, though it was hard to tell. His size and delicate features suggested he may have had some developmental challenges.
He caught my attention right away.
His father was gently singing to him—soft, patient, completely present. It was a quiet moment in the middle of noise and movement. Then the boy turned and locked eyes with me.
And he didn’t just glance… he stared.
It wasn’t the kind of stare that feels awkward or accidental. It was steady, intentional—almost piercing, but not in a harsh way. It felt like he wasn’t looking at me, but into me.
For a moment, everything else faded.
There was no judgment in his eyes. No story. No past. Just presence—pure and unfiltered. It hit me in a way I can’t fully explain. I felt seen… completely seen.
And in that stillness, a thought came over me—not from my mind, but from somewhere deeper:
God sees you, John.
Not through fear. Not through expectation. But through something innocent, something pure… something real.
It caught me off guard. But it didn’t unsettle me—it grounded me.
Sometimes we look for signs in big moments, loud answers, or complicated paths. But every now and then, it’s as simple as a child’s gaze—free of ego, free of noise—reminding you that you’re not invisible.
You never were.
“The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love.” — Psalm 33:18
Prayer:
Lord, thank You for seeing me—not as the world sees, but in truth and love. In moments when I feel overlooked or lost in my own thoughts, remind me that Your eyes are always upon me. Help me to recognize Your presence in the simple, quiet moments, and to receive them with an open heart. Amen.
