It's good to be seen

          Sam sits on the stairwell at the corner of an abandoned building in town. You can find him here most afternoons and mornings. There's nothing particularly significant about this building. Most buildings in town are vacant or abandoned. That seems to be the case now in most downtowns or Main Streets around the country. Sam of course isn't always confined to the stairwell either. Sometimes he's crouched by the doorway, sometimes leaning against a glass storefront, sometimes wandering the sidewalks on either side of the street. Most of you may even have a Sam in your town. Some would say he's homeless. While I'm fairly certain he doesn't have a house of his own, he certainly has a home - and I get to drive, jog, and stroll through it most any day of the week. He'll walk or hitch a ride to a residence each morning and evening. But the town, that's Sam's home. If you asked him, he might even tell you that. I don't know him well but I do know he has a heart. I do know his eyes light up when he smiles. He's actually a very intelligent individual and he has a mother still living in a local care facility. Sam is one of the few people I know who could tell you that the date for Christmas is probably closer to early Fall or late Summer. It has little to do with when Christ was actually born and more about offsetting pagan holidays and rituals. I know because we've had that conversation before. Sam is a man of faith for sure, and he's an informed one.

           This particular day is a rare occasion. I was on my way somewhere, or returning from something, so I was actually driving to check my PO Box instead of my usual 3 1/2 block walk. I left the car on and threw up a hand at Sam across the way as I dashed into the post office to grab my mail. A few seconds later, I step out, dart across the street, and personally shake Sam's hand to say hello. His eyes light up because he has one those big smiles on his face and we exchange a few pleasantries about the day or the weather. I ask about his mom briefly and he affirms she's doing well. Not knowing what else to add, and with the car still running, I give him a combination handshake/hug and tell him it's good to see him. Looking straight into my eyes, with his wide grin and laugh, he tells me "It's good to be seen." I dart back to the car and head on to wherever I was going or wherever I was coming from. I don't really remember. What I do remember is an authentic joy in Sam's smile and laugh that day and his words which echoed through my mind that afternoon: "It's good to be seen."

          I wonder how many had "seen" Sam that day? I wonder how many of us see Sam any day - in this town, or the next?   I wonder if Sam's words aren't an expression of every human being's desire - just to be seen, recognized, an acknowledgement of existence?  I try to remember that whenever I get where I'm going.  Whoever I find there probably just wants the same thing too.  "It's good to be seen."