Happy Mother's Day

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 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.. 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: (1) No one can say who built the great
cathedrals - we have no record of their names. (2) These
builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never
see finished. (3) They made great sacrifices and expected no
credit. (4) 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 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!