Story of the Invisible Mom

I really like this....it was sent to me by my neice and I have often felt the way the mom in the story feels....John thought it was incredibly sad and hoped I had never felt that way. But both of us have worked hard being the best parents we knew how to be....we've spent countless hours working to provide for the boys...we've done crafts, planned projects and parties, we've worked with scouts and soccer and baseball, we've appaulded and smiled and encouraged and cheered and yes, sometimes we've wondered if it made any difference at all....but it's true that with your kids you work towards a goal you can't see, and you get no points for.....but God does see and so does your partner.....that's one of the reasons single parents have it so hard....they don't have the other parent there to smile and say "you did a good job today....our child may not ever know what you did for him today but I do and I'll tell him one day how lucky he is to have you as his dad/mom..." I hope all you parents know that all the hard work really does pay off and that there is someone in your life who reminds you that all your efforts are not 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. 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 suma 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 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.