Invisible Mother

Sharing one of my favourites… invisible mother…the only word I’d change is ‘sacrifice’ to one of ‘giving’…live from your heart to enjoy this marvellous journey not from duty or obligation, but from love.

Happy Mothers Day!

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. ‘

Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock?, Where’s my phone?,
What’s for dinner?’ 

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes 
that studied history, music and literature -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. She 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 she
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: ‘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 story of legend 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. 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, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand 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.

 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 3 
hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built 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, he’d say, ‘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 mothers.

 Thank you to all the Moms who are looking down and smiling at the cathedrals 
they helped to build.

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