The invisible woman

This story really encouraged me today ....... it was perfectly timed too because this morning I was throwing a self righteous fit to Frank about how I get up at night to feed the baby without ever a thank you. Oh poor me....this story reminded me that it doesn't always have to be about me. Read on.

"A wise woman builds up her home, but a foolish woman tears it down." Prov

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It started to happen gradually.

One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we
were about to cross the street when the 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 we
crossed the street I thought, 'Oh my goodness, nobody?'

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to
my 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 stand there
for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, 'Would someone
turn the TV down?' Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there
for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to
a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the
conversation, I whispered, 'I'm ready to go when you are.' He just kept
right on talking.

That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can
see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible.

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 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 women.

"Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit
lives in you?"
I Cor.3:16

Valentine's Day (ooh la laa)

My man is so good to me... we had a wonder full valentine's day! After giving me a dozen red roses AND potted red tulips AND the sweetest card I ever read (it made me cry), Frank took me for a walk on the bluff of my childhood farm, along the river. The almods were blooming and the smell of honey (and cow manure) was fresh in the air. We walked and talked and watched the sun set (sigh). When we pulled onto the long dirt driveway we stopped to talk to my old neighbor, Mike, who was working in the yard (as usual). He and Nadine have the most beautiful garden! While chatting with him we noticed that half of the orchard had already been pulled out. Wow, it looked different.

We knew it would happen one day but I just didn't expect to see it so soon... all things change in time don't they? I had so many dreams about the "home place" as a child and teen... I was a little sad to see someone else taking over with different dreams and ambitions (not to say they are bad ones). But then when I look at our pictures now, days later, and see my smiling husband I realise that I have better dreams and ambitions to look forward to... raising children and making a home with him. These seem much more adventurous than holding on to the old dreams. I still dream of the home place and haven't fully let it go, but having new dreams comforts me. I am also comforted by the words of our Lord in John 14:1-4
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going."

This world is not our home is it?