Friday, February 15, 2013

New Perspective...

Shared by Rebecca U at 8:37 AM
I saw this post called 'Cathedrals' on my friend Alex's blog here and thougt it was fantastic. It was based around an snippet from the novel 'The Invisible Woman' by Nicole Johnson. I really enjoyed reading it and it gave me a new perspective on motherhood and the percieved perspective of motherhood.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did...

"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 a few 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 conversation, I whispered "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.

Thats 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, becasue 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 studies history and the mind that graduated University - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. Shes going... shes going... shes 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 they stayed in I was sitting there, looking around at 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 mell 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: 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 the ir 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 "Becasue 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 catherdral but you cant see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an afflication. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centredness. 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 becasue 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 hes bringing home from colleges for Thanksgiving "My mom gets up at 4 int eh morning and bakes homemade pies and then she hand bastes the turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.!. That would mean I'd built a shrine or monument to myseld. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if theres anything more to say to his friend, to add "You're going to 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."

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