Invisible Mom

I got this email today and it really spoke to me. I have had a really bad day (well, several bad days) and I am at my wits end and can't to do it all anymore. I feel like I am soley resposible for doing everything in my home. The kids do chores but first I have to yank a few teeth. Hubby talks about helping more, is very proud of himself when he puts a dish in the dishwasher or when he yells at the kids to do more work, but in reality I do it everything around here. And I am worn out, tired, and stressed. I had just emailed my husband about how I need more help around the house and then I open this email. Invisible mom-that's me. I hope this email blesses you as well.



INVISIBLE MOTHER
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, theway one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone andask 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 atall.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 aclock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'Whatnumber 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 theeyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seenagain. She's going; she's going; she is gone!One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of afriend from England ..Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going onand on about the hotel she stayed in.I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together sowell. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with abeautifully 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 My Dear Friend, with admiration for the greatness of what you arebuilding when no one sees.'In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I woulddiscover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, afterwhich I could pattern my work:No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record oftheir names.These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never seefinished.They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes ofGod saw everything.A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit thecathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tinybird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Whyare you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will becovered b y 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 thesacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No actof kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you'vebaked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building agreat cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not adisease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of myown self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubbornpride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. Asone of the people who show up at a job that they will never seefinished, 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 couldever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing tosacrifice to that degree.When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friendhe's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes aturkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' Thatwould mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want himto want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to hisfriend, to add, 'You're going to love it there.'As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we'redoing it right.And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only atwhat we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the worldby the sacrifices of invisible women.Great Job, MOM!Share this with all the (wonderful) Invisible Moms you know... I just did!