A friend posted this on my discussion group and I loved it so much that I had to share it with you....
Perspective: The Invisible Woman ~By Nicole Johnson
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 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 women.
~ Dionna Sanchez (Keeping It Real Columnist)
Great post, Dionna. "We cannot be seen if we're doing it right." I like that.
~ Maureen - just another invisible mom :)
Posted by: Maureen Locher | July 28, 2008 at 12:39 AM