Leahtard

Not actually a tard.

Invisible Mother

Posted by leahtard on November 21, 2008

I did not write this and do not know who did, but when I read it it touched me in a way that few things have…….I guess I got it.  Love Leah

*Invisible Mother……
>
> 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 me a question.
>  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. 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 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!
> Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know…*I just did.*
>
>   Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough as it
> sometimesdoes.   We never know what our finished
> products will turn out to be
> because of our perseverance.

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