Invisible Moms.............

[Phantom Blooper]

Wish my mom,MIL and ALL mothers were alive to send this to............


Invisible Moms

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.'


I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated
summa *** laude -
but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going, she's going, and 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
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-centered self. 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.


Great Job, MOM!

[dilferthecat]

Thanks, Chuck. I really needed that today. There should be a Kleenex alert on that one!

[Idena]

Someone sent that to me earlier today, actually. I certainly suffer from Invisible Mom Syndrome (medically treatable by flowers, jewelry, & candy from an appreciative hubby, I've heard), & it's nice to read stuff like this sometimes. Even on my worst days, I think I'm aware on some level that I'm doing something good.

[Momof2Marines]

Thank you Phantom, from all we invisible MOMS. I have been very lucky however, in that my boys do appreciate me.

Cyndy
PMM Randy and Jerry

[Momof2Marines]

Mean and Nasty ??? I don't think so Phantom!!!

[Phantom Blooper]

Mean and Nasty ??? I don't think so Phantom!!!

Sensitivity training helps! LOL!

[Osotogary]

Well, Phantom, once again your post has struck a nerve. I didn't have a mom after the age of nine but there isn't a moment in time where my brief memory of her doesn't activate. I know that l life goes on and that, as things go, there certainly is that possiblity that mother's efforts are taken for granted, most times unintentionally.Your post reminds me that their efforts aren't.

Good post

[Osotogary]

Well, Phantom, once again your post has struck a nerve. I didn't have a mom after the age of nine but there isn't a moment in time where my brief memory of her doesn't activate. I know that l life goes on and that, as things go, there certainly is that possiblity that mother's efforts are taken for granted, most times unintentionally.Your post reminds me that their efforts aren't.
Good post