Invisable Mom

Some one sent me this in an Email, and I really liked it. I hope you Moms out there like it too.

Sometimes we need to be reminded of what we are building.....

It all began to make sense, the blank stares,

the lack of response, the way one of the kids will
walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be
taken to the store.

Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the
phone?'

Obviously, not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking,
or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in
the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am

only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can
you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands;

I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask,

'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to

answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a

car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that

once held books and the eyes that studied history
and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now
they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be
seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner,

Celebrating the return of a friend from England ...

Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and

she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I
was sitting there, looking around at the others all put
together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry
for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice
turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said,
'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me

until I read her inscription:

'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one

sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the
book. And I would discover what would become for

me, four life-changing truths, after which I

could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals

- we have no record of their names.

These builders gave their whole lives for a

work they would never see finished.

They made great sacrifices and expected no

credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by

their faith that the eyes of God saw
everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich

man who came to visit the cathedral while it was
being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on
the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why
are you spending so much time carving that bird into a
beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see
it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece

fall into place.

It was almost as if I heard God whispering to

me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices
you make every day, even when no one around you does. No
act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn

no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me

to notice and smile over. You are building a great
cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction.

But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the
cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness.

It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn

pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a

great builder. As one of the people who show up at

a job that they will never see finished, to work

on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say

that no cathedrals could ever be built in our

lifetime because there are so few people willing

to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't

want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home
from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in
the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand
bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens
for the table.'

That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument

to myself. I just want him to want to come home.

And then, if there is anything more to say to his

friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals.

We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And
one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel,
not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has
been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible
women.

Great Job, MOM!