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Thought I'd share this with all of you............it's long but definitely worth the read! 
The Invisible Mom
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 summa
cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never
to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's 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 close d 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
on, 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 nam e 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.
The Invisible Mom
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 summa
cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never
to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's 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 close d 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
on, 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 nam e 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.
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