EDITED: Just so you know....I did not write this....what you see in red are my words...Nicole Johnson is the original author!
We often shrink at the thought of being obscure....I remember years ago struggling so much with this very thing and how the Lord carried me through that season...and now, in this new season, He still does :)
You may have read this piece as it has made it's way around blog land, but for anyone who hasn't, I am posting it here...it is so worth the read:
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. --Nicole Johnson
Have a restful weedkend!
~Debi