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!" 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, co 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 children

to tell the friend they´re 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 monument for myself.

  I just want them to want to come home. And then,

if there is anything more to say to their friends, they´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 sacrifices of invisible mothers.

 

 

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