Most people become irritated at the animated gym clip that pops up when Microsoft Word is opened. But I am not like most people; I kinda like the little guy. Those large animated eyes entertain me. The ever-so-slight movements keep my mind actively searching for the following word or phrase just so that I can see what he is going to do next. Right now, he sits on a document smiling directly at me, occasionally glancing towards my document while scratching the top of his little gym clip head. A little weird? I would agree. But somehow just knowing the small animated paper clip is there makes me feel less alone at the moment.
I don’t mind being alone, sometimes I relish the opportunity. A widow in a small town I lived in some years ago, spent her days alone. Following the death of her husband, Mary rarely left her home. Mary visited the mailbox at the same time each evening; three-fifteen pm would not pass without the small socked feet of the fair complected woman strolling slowly to and from her mailbox. Her expression was always the same, emotionless. I never saw visitors to her home. On occasion, a local church group would make attempts to invite her to services. She would accept their brochures with a nod of thanks before closing herself in - and the church group out. The grocery delivery boy would set bags of groceries on her porch swing, knock on the door and leave. Mary would appear moments later to retrieve her goods. Mary was totally alone.
I heard years later that Mary died on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, exactly 3:15 pm. She had a massive coronary on her stroll to the mailbox. The small community took up a collection for her burial. Mary died alone. She was 93 years old.
I often wonder how the computer age would have affected Mary. Would she have a Facebook profile? Would she have tweeted her thoughts on Twitter or kept up with every tweet from her television idols? Would Mary see social media as an opportunity to connect with those of her past; or would she view its exploitable disclosures as nonsense, thus continuing in seclusion?
What would Mary think of this presently slumbering gym clip? Would its animated antics provoke a smile? I like to think so. I have often pondered Mary smiling or laughing during her moments alone. I would visualize a warm smile as she remembered her wedding day or prenuptial courting rituals, followed by a sigh of contentment. Did Mary sing quietly to herself of love and life? I hope so.
Although a child at the time, I saw Mary. So, I guess one might say that Mary was never truly alone. Mary just did not know that I saw her. I still see Mary in my mind and feel her in my soul, thus Mary’s memory did not die with her. We are never truly alone and forgotten as long as someone sees.
Someone, somewhere, sees each of us and knows we are here.
Ms. Mary - I see you.
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Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands...
Isaiah 49:15-16
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As I close this entry the little gym clip will morph into an animated motorcycle and drive off in search of another welcoming host, I suppose.
And with his “adieu”, I will smile.
*I See You* image copyright of Hope - of Hope's Hollow in partnership with
Anchored4Christ
