“Is that your son?” I asked pointing to the little guy who had just scored on my grandson’s soccer team.
Strangers to one another, we’d been standing side by side echoing with the same groans, cheers, and sideline advice. Although we didn’t know one another, it was obvious that we rooted for the same team.
“Yes!” he said enthusiastically.
“Go Green!” we yelled almost simultaneously.
Both my grandson’s and the man’s son wore green jerseys. Through grins and grimaces we’d become “friends.”
“Is that your grandson?” he pointed.
I noticed immediately the presumed “grandmother,” title. People no longer assume I’m the parent, nor do they teeter on the questionable fence of grandparent as once-upon-a-time. My role is set in stone and wrinkles.
“Yes, that’s my grandson,” I answered with equal pride.
We chatted briefly and then gave our attention again to the young boys on the field.
After a bit, he turned to me another time and offered,“There are seats over there if you’d like to sit down.” He motioned to a small set of bleachers.
I smiled, then pointed to all the stuff at my feet. I’d become the gate keeper to water bottles, snacks, a spattering of toys, and a bag with the wallets.
“That’s ok,” I said. “I’m the keeper.”
“I can watch your stuff,” he volunteered.
The metal bleacher was just a few feet away, but I didn’t mind standing.
I assured him the game was far too exciting for me to stay seated.
Then it hit me. He wasn’t just being kind. What he saw was an older lady, shoot, probably in his eyes someone old as dirt, who couldn’t possibly stand for an entire soccer game. He was likely thinking he should have taken a CPR course just in case.
It was kind of shocking to my sensibilities, which are deeply buried within this seasoned flesh. Inside I still feel quite young.
When we had talked before, my inner person felt at par with him, thirty-something-ish. Like we were friends having a conversation. Same age. We were both watching the game and cheering for the same team. Same experience. To think my outward appearance didn’t actually match who I am, or think I am, felt almost like a betrayal. As if I wore someone else’s clothing, or wore a disguise.
As I stood there, thinking about it, I began to wonder how often people looked at me and didn’t really see me. And in a sudden twist, I felt unknown and unseen, like a victim of mistaken identity. I wanted to be known not categorized. And most certainly I didn’t want to be classified as “old.”
The reality is people see through eyes of humanity.
The reality is people see through eyes of humanity. Phil sees me with eyes of a husband. I am a wife. My children see me with eyes that know me as Mom. My siblings saw me as a sister. My grandchildren as a grandmother. People see me differently, but not completely.
Wasn’t that also part of Jesus’ story?
The Jewish people looked for a Messiah Ruler, and they expected Him to look and act a certain way. They wanted someone with the proper pomp, religious garb, and ceremony to take the political scene in hand. They looked inward and longed for someone to turn the tables on the injustices they faced and give them a better life.
He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him. (Isaiah 53:3 NKJV)
The dissonance between the imagined Messiah and the Jesus they saw, blinded them from seeing God Himself.
The Messiah’s own people, didn’t even recognize Him. They mocked Him, insulted Him, misused and mistreated Him. They nailed Him to a cross. The dissonance between the imagined Messiah and the Jesus they saw, blinded them from seeing God Himself Share on X
My uneasiness with the simple exchange at the soccer field pushed me to recognize I often look at people in the same way the man had seen me. I expect outsides and insides to match, and surely like the blindness of the Pharisees, I sometimes miss the value inside.
Jesus came to redeem the reign of sin in our souls and to make us His own. And sometimes I get fooled into thinking who I am is of greater importance than than Who He is.
The most precious of truths is that Jesus sees me as His child.
This is the victory of the cross. And its victory must also change the way I look at others.The most precious of truths is that Jesus sees me as His child Share on X
My grandson’s soccer pass to the man’s son grabs both of our attentions.
“Go Green!” we shout.
We turn toward one another and grin.
He assumes it is at the joy of a goal. Honestly, it’s because I’ve remembered who I really am. I am a child of the King.
Diane Barnes
What a precious reminder. Thank you, Sylvia ! ! !
Nancy E. Head
I’ve looked into the same bathroom mirror since 1977. The same woman. A changed face. Great message, Sylvia.
Sylvia Schroeder
Thanks Nancy! I love the way you said that! Same mirror. Same woman. A changed face. Hopefully Jesus finds our hearts changing and becoming more like Him! Appreciate your comment!
Katherine Pasour
As I read, I nodded my head again and again. Yes, I’ve been there, too–classified as “old” long before I thought I was. I love your answer, “we’re a child of the King” and that’s all that matters. Thank you, Sylvia.
Sylvia Schroeder
Thank you Katherine! Our position remains ageless. Children of the King!
Linda Lou Brucato
You still look young to me! Actually, I’m thrilled to be getting older everyday, knowing that the days ahead of me are less than those behind. I’m longing to see Jesus!
Sylvia Schroeder
I love your perspective Linda. Thank you for reminding me that yes, the days ahead are less than behind and it is a good thing. I too am longing to see Jesus!
J.D. Wininger
Another great post Ms. Sylvia. I love that God sees me as His dear child, but I sometimes wish He didn’t see me as I really am. For that reason, knowing that He sees His Son in me gives me hope. I still have so far to go. God’s blessings, ma’am.
Sylvia Schroeder
I love the statement, “knowing that He sees His Son in me gives me hope.” It is such a blessed hope!!
Maria Martens
Oh this is soooo good! thank you Sylvia for this picture of how see ourselves and other, Jesus sees me as his child, period.
Each time I read you blog, I learn something and am reminded of great and wonderful truths! thank you for blessing the Lord and us your readers 🙂
Sylvia Schroeder
Thank you Maria. When I hear from you I am reminded of a great friendship and wonderful sister in Christ!
Danielle Link
Dear Sylvia- That was wonderful! I am your biggest new fan! Smiles in agreeance and tears trickled down my face as I read it. Thank you. That is exactly where I am at right now but no grandchildren… I found you on Crosswalk.com while doing my own study on Anger in “How Can Christians Practice ‘A Soft Answer Turns Away Wrath’ Today?”… Thank you for your work and for your time. I hope you have a great day today. Your sister in Christ, Danielle Link