Invisible

A friend emailed me this and it brought tears to my eyes. Had to share...

I'm invisible.
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.
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 as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the
only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled
up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut
butter in it. 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 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,

reat Job, MOM