Now You See Me, Now You...

I've been feeling invisible lately.

I'll go ahead and be really transparent and admit that's part of the reason why I decided to start blogging again.

For multiple reasons, I feel invisible in every area of my life. Funny how the superpower I dreamed of having when I was young is not so cool as an adult. I think it's that whole knowing-people-see-you-but-feeling-like-they-don't thing vs. knowing you're completely not visible. I can't pick my nose or make faces at the people I don't like. Can you imagine? "Oh, you can see me? Oh... oops!"

As an editor, it's my job to be invisible. I descend upon a piece of writing, flash my red pen, hit "accept all changes," and return the piece to its creator, polished and pretty. They don't quite know what I did; they just know for some vague reason it was needed. They feel good about themselves as a writer and we all move on.

Which is fine until I hit a project where I do much more than flash a red pen, but the end result is still the same.

The project will come out shiny and great, and I will stand in the shadows. Call it a humbling experience. Think that maybe I'm earning some great real estate in heaven. Tell myself it's enough that I know what I did. "Store up for yourself treasures in heaven..." And what's that verse about if you receive praise from man, that's it? That's all you get? Yeah, that one.

The irony is that I just read about the "gift of invisibility." How it's a blessing to be invisible because it takes the pressure off of you. I agree—sometimes that's true.

And sometimes you just want someone to look you in the eye and see you.