The Empty Chair Beside You

There are empty chairs everywhere.

One may be at church. Another may be at Rotary, Lions, Kiwanis, or another civic meeting.

There may be one at a school event, community gathering, ballgame, workplace, or around a family table. Most of the time, we don’t think much about an empty chair.

Until we remember who used to sit there. Someone attended faithfully for years and then stopped coming. Someone who used to volunteer hasn’t been around lately.

A neighbor we once saw regularly doesn’t seem to be outside anymore.

A familiar face disappears from the places where we became accustomed to seeing it.

Life happens. People move. Schedules change. Families change. Health changes.

Jobs change. Responsibilities change. Sometimes people simply choose a different direction.

But sometimes people are missing because something happened, and nobody thought to ask.

That’s the part I’ve been thinking about. We spend a great deal of time counting the people who show up. How many attended? How many registered? How many joined? How many volunteered? Those numbers matter. Organizations need participation.

But strong communities learn to count differently too. They notice who’s missing. Not to pry.

Not to gossip. Not to demand an explanation.

Simply to say:

“I haven’t seen you lately. How are you?”

That’s a very different question from, “Where have you been?”

One sounds like accountability. The other sounds like care. And care doesn’t require a committee. You don’t need an agenda, budget, program, or title to pick up the telephone.

A text takes seconds. A card costs very little. Stopping by someone’s table in a restaurant just to say hello may take two minutes. An invitation can be as simple as, “I’m going. Why don’t you come with me?”  We never really know what another person may be carrying.

And sometimes people withdraw quietly. They don’t announce that they’re lonely. They don’t send out a notice that life has become difficult. They don’t always know how to ask for help.

Sometimes the person who stopped showing up assumes nobody noticed.

Imagine discovering that somebody did. A simple phone call can remind someone that they still have a place, and that the door is still open whenever they're ready to return.

Community isn’t only built by bringing new people through the door. It’s also strengthened when we value the people who have already walked through it. That applies to churches.

It applies to civic organizations. It applies to neighborhoods, businesses, schools, families, and friendships. There are people all around us who don’t need another program.

They need connection. They need someone to notice. And noticing doesn’t mean we have to fix whatever is happening in their lives. Sometimes we can’t. It simply means we refuse to let people become invisible because their usual chair is empty. So sometime this week, think about your own circles. Who haven’t you seen? Whose chair has been empty? Whose name haven’t you heard lately? Don’t assume somebody else has called. Don’t assume somebody else knows. And don’t assume your call wouldn’t matter.

Sometimes one of the most powerful things we can offer another person is evidence that their presence made enough difference for their absence to be noticed. 

Around Town Insight™

Strong communities don’t only notice who showed up. They notice who is missing. Sometimes building community begins with one simple message: “I noticed you weren’t there, and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

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