We are so happy this establishment has set up camp nearby, you see
until recently the nearest location was about a 1/2 hour away...
sometimes they call me your highness
>
> 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 me a question.
>
> In side 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 around5:30, please.'
>
> I was certain that these were the hands that once
> held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind
> that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had
> disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
> again. She's going; she's going; she is 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.
>
> 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 herinscription:
>
> '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 life time 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!
> Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know...I
> just did.
>
> Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough
> as it sometimes does. We never know what our finished
> products will turn out to be because of our perseverance.
>
>
Windows Live™: Discover 10 secrets about the new Windows Live. View post.
