Imagine being surrounded by people who don’t truly know who you are. They might have an idea of you—perhaps even a concept of who they think you are—but they don’t understand the things that bring you joy or the moments that weigh your spirit down.

They don’t see how deeply you believe the world is better because of your presence. They don’t grasp how much you value humanity, the convictions you hold dear, or the grace you extend to others, even when it costs you.

But wouldn’t it be nice if they did?

Wouldn’t it be beautiful if they not only knew you but made the effort to try? To listen, to see, and to appreciate the fullness of your being?

There’s something profound about being known—really known. It’s more than recognition; it’s connection. It’s being seen, understood, and loved for who you are, not for who others think you should be.

And yet, how often do we truly try to know others in this way?

Perhaps the invitation here is twofold: to hope for those who will seek to know us and to become the kind of people who seek to know others. Because in knowing, we reflect the love and grace that we ourselves long to receive.

It starts with a question, a pause, or a kind word. It starts with the courage to say, “I see you, and I’d like to know more.”