I am forty-eight years old, and I have an invisible friend.  Its not that other people can’t see her.  They simply don’t.  Hard as I try, I simply cannot understand this phenomenon; how someone so amazing can go so unnoticed, and she finds herself among a multitude of other incredible, yet invisible, women.

My friend has spent her life serving others around the world, and I don’t mean that in the,”She writes checks from the safety of her perfect, suburban fortress” kind-of way.  No, she has uprooted her entire life and traveled to dangerous, remote, get-out-your-globe-to-find-it places.  She has suffered freezing cold, blistering heat, and soul-sucking isolation for the sake of the Gospel,  all the while bearing and raising children, caring for her husband, sharing the love of Christ with women who saw her as an oddity to be carefully observed, but never included. Yet on her best day, she seems an afterthought to most.

On the exterior, to those who take the time to politely shake her hand while waiting in line to speak to her husband, she appears confident and strong; the very image of a stoic missionary, a happy little introvert content in the shadow of her husband’s celebrity.  His story is sought after, his presence even commanding a fee. All the while, her own tale of suffering and victory relegated to the post-script of a larger-than-life, epic blockbuster.  One would never dream she had so much to say, if one even noticed she was there.

For some glorious reason I may never fully understand, God brought this beautiful human being into my life.  He gave me eyes to see her, and for that I am so elatedly grateful.  My friend’s words are genuine, full of depth, and overflowing with honesty.  Sometimes this mighty woman of God even drops the “F” bomb (gasp!) and it only makes me love her more.  She is as real as they come, and I quickly realized I would never have to question my standing in her affections.  This friend shares her true self, a trait that can deter those who prefer platitudes and ear candy, yet I find incredibly endearing.

While her life is full of mountain-top experiences, its the valleys that best define her beauty.  Being trusted with her tears is one of my greatest honors.  Witnessing her navigate the minefield of missionary motherhood brings me to the point of awe and wonder as I have a front row seat to that bittersweet balance of earthly anguish and Heavenly hope.  My friend openly allows her heart wounds to bleed with those who will take the time to listen, and what pours forth is the perfect picture of God’s desire for His self-indulgent, recalcitrant children.

Despite abandoning her own hopes and dreams for the furtherance of God’s kingdom, offering her life as a sacrifice for His good, she has yet to experience the western church’s promise of a perfect and peaceful life.  My friend suffers.  She does not gloss over it with cliches.  She does not spew Scriptural niceties to smooth away the rough edges of her experience.  She gave up everything for her Jesus, and He has yet to answer her heart’s desire.  Yet she loves Him with a ferocity that cannot be contained. Her strength in times of gut-wrenching weakness reflects God’s glory and reveals His goodness better than any sermon I’ve ever endured.

Louise Hogan is all of this, and so much more, but few even realize they are standing in the presence of such a hero of the faith.  She is not invisible.  She is here, she is my good friend whom I love. I am so blessed to see her, to hear her, to know and be known by her.

So the next time you find yourself in an audience, listening to a mighty man of God share his incredible story of life on the mission field, quietly turn and look at that little book table in the back corner.  Open your eyes and see the lady sitting, staring at the floor as she hears his story for the millionth time, and at your first opportunity go to her and say, “I see you, and I want to hear.  Tell me YOUR story.”  I promise, you will be forever changed for doing so.