Monday, February 14, 2011

The Cathedral

Hi all…Happy Valentines!  Is your day full of romance?...  roses?...  candlelight dinners?  …diamonds?  …sexy lingerie (eek!)   Or are you a bit more like me?

Heart shaped cookies?  Half eaten cake?  Messy countertops and corridors, … possible headaches and laundry? 

But you know, for today, I’m not complaining…filled with love overflowing.  Four healthy kids. 

One that gives me a rash almost every time he speaks, which is by the way
Thus the rash.
One that is a comedian in training, clowning for a smile at any moment, sometimes resulting in eye rolls but mostly remarkably good at her new found trade.

One that is little and cute and wears his clothes backwards.  He’s the 4 year old equivalent of Eeyore, but gives fab hugs and slobbery kisses to die for.

And the last, who was really the first…11 going on 21…thinking she’s just ALL THAT!  And well, for the most part she’s absolutely 100% right!

The 2 one is to die for the others are whatever!  

 Excuse me…for a moment there I was hijacked by the comedian...shall I continue?  Also, I’m blessed with a smelly, farmer husband, due to come home soon…likely no roses, wrong season for ditch weeds, God forbid he brings me some live creature he finds somewhere from salamander to orphan kitten…I’ve seen it all…he will likely be empty handed and in this case that’s a really good thing.  

But you know, today anyway, that’s okay.  Because he will come home and he does love me.  And all the kids.  And that’s a HUGE gift I simply cannot take for granted.

But for those days when “love” is not “in the air” I found below the following forwarded e-mail on a blog I follow.  Kara at Mine for the Making offered it up to share around, so I took her invite.  It resonates for me on many levels.  Hope you find some fulfillment in it too…mom or not, we’re all often taken for granted or at least think we are…who cares…He’s watching, and knows all we do. 

Love Ya!  Happy Hearts Day!   

The Invisible Mother 

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 ,

Some days I'm a crystal ball: 'Where's my other sock? Where's my phone?
What's for dinner?'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history, music and literature--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. She 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 she 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: '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: 1) No one can say who built the great
cathedrals--we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave
their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made
great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their
building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend 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,
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. 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, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand 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.

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 monument to myself. I just want him to want to
come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend,
he'd say, "
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 mothers. 

The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you. 

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