OT Invisible Mom

I was emailed this and it is so true  THE 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 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 summ *** 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 m 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 child to   tell the friend he's bringing home from college for   Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and   bakes home made 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 Mom s you know...I just   did.

 

That was beautiful.  Thanks for sharing.

Linda

THANK YOU!  As a mother to 2 daughters plus a stepdaughter (I also have 2 neices living with me currently) I feel just like that poem.  It is nice to be reminded why we do this.