There are so many things I do in my life, things big and small, that go unseen.

Most mornings, I’m the one who puts the toaster away and sweeps the crumbs into the sink. I replace body wash and deodorant when they’ve been used up — the new bottles magically appearing on the bathroom counter as the person needs them. I order groceries for meals I plan. I sign up the kids for summer activities and fill out registration forms and pay the fees. I turn off lights and refill cereal dispensers and throw towels in the laundry chute.

All tasks that I just do with barely a thought as I roll through the day. All things that are mostly unseen by anyone else (but would be oh-so-noticed if they didn’t happen).

These unseen tasks and times don’t stop at being a household manager or mother. As a fully remote employee, I don’t have water cooler asides, birthday office treats, or coffee with coworkers in the break room. I am only seen through a screen. There are many times I smile to myself, alone in my home office, and do the task — whether it’s been assigned to me or not. If I see it needs to get done, I just do it. No one knows it was me, and they don’t have to. I know it’s complete, and done well, and I’m satisfied with that. It doesn’t get me accolades or awards, but I have a sense of accomplishment just the same, and usually that’s enough to carry me onward.

Until it isn’t.

There are times when I would prefer to be rewarded, noticed, seen. Times I would rather leave the crumbs on the counter and let someone else deal with them. And while it’s not a great look, it’s the truth.

A few weeks back, during the Maycember rush of concerts and programs and track meets and ball games and end-of-the-year festivities, my 4-year-old got an ear infection. Instead of cheering on the other kids at a Scout bridging ceremony and a baseball game (because, of course, they were happening on the same night), my littlest and I got our sweatpants on and cuddled up for a Paw Patrol marathon. My husband would have stayed in a heartbeat, but as the Scout troop Cubmaster, he was leading the ceremony, and as a coach for our son’s baseball team, he was also coaching the game. It had to be me.

As everyone was getting ready to leave, I was having a little internal pity party for myself. I wanted to go to all the things and cheer and not feel left out. I wanted to be seen. I felt selfish and silly because, of course, I was happy to be with my little one who wasn’t feeling well. And I just also wanted to go.

After everyone was in their uniforms and I had told them all I was proud of them, and after my husband had promised to take way too many pictures during everything, and after I’d hugged everyone goodbye, my daughter paused.

She looked at me thoughtfully and said, “Mom, one thing I love about you is that you always step up to stay behind with whoever needs you.”

I mean.

I was, as the youths say, shook.

She saw me.

When I felt like no one would see me, she looked right at me — and then, even though I was missing her special ceremony, she thanked me for staying back.

We’ve all heard that God loves us. That He sees us (Genesis 16:13), never forgets about us, hears our every whispered prayer (1 John 5:14). He never leaves us and has never forsaken us (Deuteronomy 31:6). We are always on His mind (Psalm 139), and we are always beloved by Him (1 John 4:10-12).

But am I the only one who can’t seem to remember that? Am I the only one who looks warily at His face, wondering if He really means it? Because if no one else sees the small things, the big things, the missed concerts and the tiniest of counter crumbs, does He really?

Yes, friend. Yes, He does. And He appreciates every single one.

Listen for His thank you in the face of a friend when you drop a coffee off on her porch. Feel His thank you in the hand of your youngest, held in the middle of a feverish night. See His thank you in the glory of a sunset as you drive a kid to practice, and in the starry sky later as you drive back to pick them up. Look for His thank you in the heart of a grateful partner, child, coworker, all helped by your unseen work. Hear His still, small thank you in the silence when you’re by yourself, but fully known by God.

I know your life is made up of small, unseen moments. So, as my daughter saw me, I see you and I thank you. Thank you for giving of yourself when no one else sees it. Thank you for staying back with a sick kid, a worn-out parent, a sister in need. Thank you for correcting that error at work, quietly and without fanfare. Thank you for sweeping up the crumbs.

If I could give you a big gold star to display on your desk, I would.

But instead, look for the still, small voice of thanks from the One who made the stars. It’s His heart we impress and glorify in our unseen work. And He doesn’t miss a thing.

Listen to Anna’s devotion on the (in)courage podcast below, or wherever you love to stream. 

Leave a Comment