You are the God who sees Us!

 A fire rages in a two-story house. A young boy's head is visible leaning out a second-floor window. His voice is piercing and plaintive, "Daddy, help me! Daddy, where are you?"

Smoke (from first-floor-flames) billows from shattered ground floor windows, now obscuring visibility. From the window, the boy cannot see the ground below, and he is literally shaking with fright. The boy hears a familiar voice, as if coming from inside the great cloud of smoke. His father, shouts, implores, "Son, I am right here. I can hear you. I am right here on the ground beneath your window. I need to you to listen to me. Listen to my voice. I need you to jump. Now. Jump and I will catch you."
"But Daddy, I can't jump because I can't see you."
"That's okay son. I will catch you because I can still see you."
It may not be a fire. But each of us knows what it is like to be afraid. To "look outside a window" in our life, and know that something is out of kilter. Or, (maybe typically) because we can't see, we make stuff up (and it's never very good is it?).
It's as if we allow the uncertainty—and the fear—to be the judge and jury for reality. To determine the "narrative". I get it. We don't believe we have any control. So, like the little boy, we feel powerless. And invisible. To those around us. Even to God. And we don't see a way out.

There have been times when I have looked out of the window of my life, and have seen only smoke. And I want to trust that there is someone or something to catch me.

The truth is: Most often, I really am afraid to jump. (I once read where Fr. Andrew Greeley said that how we live depends upon whether we see the universe as capricious or benign. If we jump, will someone catch us?)

Here's the deal: the power of Grace allows us to give in to the moment. Whatever it holds. To choose to receive, or walk, or jump. To choose to apologize, or forgive, or love, or set right, or grant mercy, or receive mercy.
In other words, smoke is not the only “narrative” here.
And with the gift of Grace, I know that my choice is empowered by the gentle sovereignty in that voice, "Trust me Terry. You may not be able to see me, but I can still see you. Jump."

"You are the God who sees me."  Hagar's response to God, after her cry of desperation. (The Book of Genesis) “Sabbath Moments”