Fwd: The invisible Mom... this is beautiful and I thought you'd enjoy it.

Subject: FW: 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.   >     >      In side  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 around5:30,  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 herinscription:   >     >     '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 life time 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 sometimes does.  We never  know what our finished > products will turn out to be because of our  perseverance. >   >

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