The Invisible Mom

I received this in an email recently and thought it was so great that I wanted to post it so others could benefit from it. It is so very true...Moms really do makes lots of sacrifices.

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 cum 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 birdon
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 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 woman.