Not
so invisible….
I’m
the Invisible Mom
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 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 hair 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 bought 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 again 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, but 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 the 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 a.m. 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 will all the Invisible Moms you know….I just did!
(Author Invisible)
