Do you need to hear this?

I got an email from a dear friend today and it really touched me. I thought I'd share the story with you here. I posted it to a group of friends today and it started a pretty deep discussion about this "job" of raising a family and being a mom. I'm so glad for the sacrifices that Scott has made for me to be able to be a mom to my kids. I'm so thankful that I got to be here when they got home from school... and even though they don't technically "need" me for a lot of physical needs any more, I'm so thankful that I get to hang out here at home and be available for the times that they "need" me to listen or give some advice or just shoot down a crazy idea. :) I love being a mom and I love it even more now that my kids are getting to that age where I get glimpses of the kind of adults they're going to be. This parenting thing isn't for sissies. That's for sure. But it's worth it. Yep. Totally and completely worth it...

I'm 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.

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 summa cum laude - 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. 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 as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. 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.

***Edited***

I guess I'm not the only one thinking about such things... seems that Karen and Christine have already "been there and blogged that"... but maybe you didn't already see it there and for some reason I was supposed to share it with you... I hope so. :) Happy Monday evening. I am now headed downstairs to take a hot bath and go to bed so I can get rid of this headache and face my Tuesday with a bang! :)

Comments

[traci]

kelly - thank you so much for sharing that. it is absolutely beautiful and true. i too am very thankful for being able to be home and available for my kids. they are 17 and almost 16 but i do feel like they still "need" me in little ways and sometimes the little ways are the most important. have a wonderful night and i hope your tuesday is great!

[becca]

I wrote a letter to brother shortly after he got custody of the boys...to remind him that I saw what he was doing, how he was raising those kids, even when he thought we weren't watching.

What a fabulous post Kelly--and you're right...it is an honor to be a Mom.

xoxo.

[Jen Higgins]

Thanks for sharing that! What an encouragement. As a busy mom in the midst of raising an almost four-year-old it's important to remember that what I do is important to my daughter, husband, and God. It's so easy to get boggled down with the day to day tasks and forget that I'm raising a person, who will one day, I hope and pray, love Him even more than I do.

[Janet]

Thanks, Kelly. I did need it this morning :)

[Jan C.]

I hadn't ever seen that, Kelly, so thanks for sharing it. I may just put it on my blog one of these days. It's worth passing around!

[Jeanette]

This is a role that never came to be in my life but I see my sister living it and admire her perserverence raising 4 kids. I continue to tell her that as adults we always reflect on our childhood. And although it's never perfect, the kids will appreciate it more when they are older.

It only makes me love my mom even more knowing the sacrifices she made when we were kids. And when you see your kids grow up to lead productive lives, I think that's the biggest reward of all to a mother (and father too).

:)

[courtney]

I'd never seen this either, Kelly - wow. This is really, really great stuff! Thank you for posting it! :)

[Susan]

It is just what I needed. Thanks.

[Robin]

Kelly, I can't even tell you how much I needed this right now. Funny, even when I don't see you for months at a time, you still are there when I need you. I love you, friend. If I don't see you before the 13th, Happy Birthday.

R.

[Tena]

Good reminder, thanks I needed that. Tena