A complaint

I want to complain. I want to complain about "Christians" that know full well the tragedy my family has endured, yet they still, as has been their habit all along, walk right by me every day, refusing to make eye contact with me, let alone engage in conversation.

I'm not especially chatty myself for the most part. I don't want an exciting dialogue every time someone walks by. But I have to wonder what is going on behind those eyes that never lock on mine, eyes that have to look over at some indeterminate corner of the room, that have to look at the floor, because heaven knows we have to look at the floor when we walk. Is it fear? If it is, what are they afraid of? Am I frightening? I don't think I am, but I suppose my self assessment could be wrong. It must, by definition, be biased. Still, I look at people. I'm game to connect. Why is that so rarely reciprocated?

And I want to complain about co-workers who also know full well the tragedy my family has suffered, yet they don't make any effort to even ask how I'm doing. Initially this didn't bother me personally, I just thought, "Are they that afraid to reach out?" I don't want pity for me or my family, so that isn't the issue. I just couldn't imagine people being so insensitive, so unable to care.

But as I continued to ponder, amazed, this lack of compassion, it struck me that this absence of reaching must really be evidence of an appalling indifference. These people can't truly, practically, care about me or my family. If I told them that, they would likely take offense and deny it. But the fact says it all. If these people cared, they would not ignore the situation. If they truly cared, there would be some action to prove it.

Again, I don't want pity, and I don't expect people to ask for an update every single day. But I cannot process the fact that many of my co-workers have said NOTHING to me. That is an affront to me and my family. It means that we do not matter to these people, to any degree. That is a slap in my face.