Guest guest Posted May 7, 2009 Report Share Posted May 7, 2009 The Invisible WomanIt started to happen gradually¦ One day I was walking my son Jake toschool. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street whenthe crossing guard said to him, “Who is that with you, young fella?”“Nobody,” he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as wecrossed the street I thought, “Oh my goodness, nobody?”I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something tomy family - like “Turn the TV down, please” - and nothing would happen.Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would standthere for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder,“Would someone turn the TV down?” Nothing. Just the other night my husbandand I were out at a party. We’d been there for about threehours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend fromwork. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, Iwhispered, “I’mready to go when you are.” He just kept right on talking. I’m invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the wayone of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phoneand ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’mon 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 thecorner, 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? Canyou tie this? Can you openthis? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m aclock to ask, “What time is it?”I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” I’m acar to order, “Right around5:30, please.” I was certain that these were the hands that once heldbooks and the eyes that studied history and themind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into thepeanut 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 afriend 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 sittingthere, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hardnot to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-styledress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hairwas pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanutbutter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me witha beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure whyshe’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte, withadmiration 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 woulddiscover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which Icould pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have norecord of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never seefinished They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes ofGod saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich manwho came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw aworkman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled andasked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam thatwill be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it”And the workman replied, “Because God sees.” I closed the book, feeling themissing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard Godwhispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you makeevery day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’vedone, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me tonotice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’tsee right now what it will become.” At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a diseasethat is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my ownself-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keepthe right perspective when I see myself as agreat builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they willnever 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 bebuilt in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrificeto that degree. When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’sbringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in themorning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours andpresses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrineor a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, ifthere is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love itthere.” As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’redoing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world willmarvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to theworld by the sacrifices of invisible women. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 7, 2009 Report Share Posted May 7, 2009 Yep can totally relate....thanks for sending!!! Great Mother's Day message! Cheers Bea--- On Thu, 5/7/09, Clare@GOOGLE MAIL <theclaremcharris wrote: Clare@GOOGLE MAIL <theclaremcharris Invisible MotherUndisclosed-RecipientReceived: Thursday, May 7, 2009, 1:48 AM The Invisible WomanIt started to happen gradually¦ One day I was walking my son Jake toschool. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street whenthe crossing guard said to him, “Who is that with you, young fella?â€â€œNobody,†he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as wecrossed the street I thought, “Oh my goodness, nobody?â€I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something tomy family - like “Turn the TV down, please†- and nothing would happen.Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would standthere for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder,“Would someone turn the TV down?†Nothing. Just the other night my husbandand I were out at a party. We’d been there for about threehours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend fromwork. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, Iwhispered, “I’mready to go when you are.†He just kept right on talking. I’m invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the wayone of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phoneand ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’mon 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 thecorner, 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? Canyou tie this? Can you openthis? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m aclock to ask, “What time is it?â€I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?†I’m acar to order, “Right around5:30, please.†I was certain that these were the hands that once heldbooks and the eyes that studied history and themind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into thepeanut 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 afriend 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 sittingthere, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hardnot to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-styledress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hairwas pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanutbutter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me witha beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.†It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure whyshe’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte, withadmiration 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 woulddiscover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which Icould pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have norecord of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never seefinished They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes ofGod saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich manwho came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw aworkman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled andasked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam thatwill be covered by the roof? No one will ever see itâ€And the workman replied, “Because God sees.†I closed the book, feeling themissing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard Godwhispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you makeevery day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’vedone, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me tonotice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’tsee right now what it will become.†At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a diseasethat is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my ownself-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keepthe right perspective when I see myself as agreat builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they willnever 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 bebuilt in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrificeto that degree. When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’sbringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in themorning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours andpresses all the linens for the table.†That would mean I’d built a shrineor a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, ifthere is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love itthere.†As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’redoing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world willmarvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to theworld by the sacrifices of invisible women. Looking for the perfect gift? Give the gift of Flickr! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.