Invisible

My very dear and wise friend Laura sent this to me today. How did she know this is exactly what i needed to read at that very moment? Thanks Laura for being such a great friend and an inspiration to me. This is for all those invisible moms. My favorite line is the second to last one. Be encouraged as you read this today!

It started to happen gradually. One day, I was walking my son Jake toschool. I was holding his hand, and we were about to cross the streetwhenthe crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged."Nobody?" said the crossing guard, and I laughed. My son is only 5, butaswe crossed the street I thought, "Oh, my goodness, nobody?"I would walk into a room, and no one would notice. I would saysomething tomy family like, "Turn the TV down, please," - and nothing would happen.Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would standtherefor a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Wouldsomeoneturn the TV down?" Nothing.Just the other night, my husband and I were out at a party. We'd beentherefor about three hours, and I was ready to leave. I noticed he wastalking toa friend from work. So I wal ked over, and when there was a break intheconversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." Hejustkept right on talking.That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think hecansee me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, thewayone of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and askto betaken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on thephone?" Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, orsweepingthe floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no onecan seeme at all.I'm invisible.Some days, I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this?Canyou tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'mnoteven a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm asatelliteguide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I 'm a car toorder,"Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and theeyesthat studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -butnowthey 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 ofafriend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip,andshe was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sittingthere,looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard nottocompare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-styledress;it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair waspulled up in a banana clip, and I was afraid I could actually smellpeanutbutter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to mewith abeautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was abookon the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'dgiven itto me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration forthegreatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I woulddiscoverwhat would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which Icouldpattern my work:* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record oftheirnames. * These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never seefinished.* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyesofGod saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit thecathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tinybirdon the inside of a beam! He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are youspending so muc h time carving that bird into a beam that will becovered bythe roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "BecauseGodsees."I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It wasalmostas if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see thesacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No actofkindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you'vebaked, istoo small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a greatcathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not adiseasethat is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my ownself-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. Asone ofthe people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, toworkon something that their name will never be on. The writer of the bookwentso far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetimebecause 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 friendhe'sbringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 inthemorning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey forthreehours 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 willmarvel,not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been addedto the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.