Invisible Mother

I have posted something I received in an email several weeks ago. You may have seen it too, but when I saw it, I knew I had to pass it on. It speaks to all mothers, and the invisibility it speaks of is applicable to any and all mothers throughout time. Of course there are some things included in the daily life of the mother featured in this post that speak to only the current generation, but the idea behind this post is universal and timeless. It speaks to...

...Mothers who carried their babies on their backs as they traversed several miles of trails to a new home.

...Mothers who raised their babies and sent them off to war when they were too young.

...Mothers who watched as their children suffered in a hospital bed.

...Mothers who went to every music program, game, and performance of any kind.

...Mothers who may have received thier beloved title through adoption or foster care.

...Mothers young and mothers old.

...Mothers of all kinds, shapes and sizes.

... even Republican Mothers, Democrat Mothers, African Mothers, Indian Mothers, and American Mothers.

We may have several differences among us that set us apart, but what we have in common is our hearts, our desires and our love for our babies.

Read this and you'll see what I mean (by the way, I threw in random silly pictures of my own kiddos just to make it more fun)!

I didn't write the following words, but you'll soon discover why I included them on my blog.

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.'

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 greatcathedrals 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 read - no, devoured - the book. And I discovered 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.