Yesterday morning Asher and I were sitting in the basement just hanging out. He was sitting on the floor playing with some blocks; I on the other hand was completely engrossed in the woman on the television getting ready to play Plinko.
If you’ve never heard of Plinko it would lead me to believe that you have never seen, or have seen only small snippets of The Price is Right. My grandfather watched the show religiously and now that I have the opportunity to watch, I do so with great enthusiasm. So there I was sitting on the couch belittling the woman on the screen for guessing that a can opener could possibly cost $50 (and now she’s lost a Plinko chip and therefore another opportunity to win $10,000) when I suddenly feel a small hand on my knee. I divert my attention away from the television and peering over my leg are these bright shinny eyes. Asher had pulled himself up to a standing position and was now looking me square in the face with a big 5 tooth grin. I wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there until I noticed the sizable drool pool that was slowly oozing larger and larger on my pant leg. He had been standing there for quite some time, at least a couple minutes which for little baby legs has got to be quite some time. I instantly felt like a buffoon. I mean really, what dad that is worth anything doesn’t even realize that his son is standing next to him, a little hand touch his leg simply wanting to be noticed. The moment my eyes met his he had let out a giggle then dropped to his diaper cushioned rear and went back to building the leaning tower of Duplo. So here is what my son’s need for recognition stirred in me…just because we are all grown up and have adult responsibilities has not lessened our desire to be noticed, to be recognized, to be accepted as worthy. Yet that is also held in tension with the fact that being noticed can be scary. Bob Dylan once said “Being noticed can be a burden. Jesus got himself crucified because he got himself noticed. So I disappear a lot.” Indeed being noticed can be a burden, but where does that burden come from? It comes from other human beings that at times are more worried about telling their own story than listening to someone else’s.
“The greatest danger, that of losing one's own self, may pass off quietly as if it were nothing; every other loss, that of an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc., is sure to be noticed.” Soren Kierkegaard
