>I'M INVISIBLE
>( this came by email and I have no idea who wrote it - but how very true!)
>
>
>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.
>
>
>
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>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 hair 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 fuelled 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."
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>
>
>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 mum 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 (and grandmothers), 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.
>
>
>
>Great Job, MUM
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