My neighbor, Megan, shared this story on her blog and I had to repost. I know we all feel like this sometimes. Just a reminder that we are doing great work! Keep it up friends!
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 thefriend 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.
We had lots of fun celebrating Easter this year. I think Jack understood that it was about Jesus and not just the Easter bunny- Madeline is still learning. We made these yummy Smeeps
I got to do Madeline's party at school and we all made bunny tails and sang "Peter Cottontail" as we hopped around the room. The kids loved it. Some action shots:
The Smiths hosted a brunch and egg hunt. Jack and Mad were serious about the hunt.
I made these cute tags for the drinks- love Mason jars!!
I don't think I will ever get a good pic of these two again!
Off to hunt!
The highlight of the day was the "candy cannon" that launched large amounts of candy high into the air while the kids ran around and caught it!
Hmm, anyone watching?
Loving the rides!
Jack's basket
Madeline's basket
My mom always hid our baskets for us to find on Easter and we are carrying on the tradition. Madeline and Jack loved looking for their baskets and were excited by the goodies!
We tried to get some pics after church but Madeline fell asleep on the way home so it's just my oldest and youngest!
My two handsome men!
Me and my boy
Jack has a new obsession with kites so we fly them alot.
Sometimes he gives Madeline a turn
and every now and then she actually holds on to it!
