This artsy fartsy hand picture came in "handy"....my manicurist is on vacation...and Sophia has been filling in...and her art work is displayed on my fingernails..and it is HOT as PINK can get...but hey...she and mama enjoyed the girl time...Onward to the point at "hand"......*wink*
I got an email from Emily one of my best friends who inhabits the "Rock" with Da' G' Unit...and she is a stay at home mama as well...and she forwarded me this email that I am posting..so hang in there "talkative" Tritia has a few words to express...
Last year was such a tough year for me....being a stay at home mama...and trying to keep "it" all together...all the lesson's to teach...all the laundry to wash...fold...put away...all he floors to mop...all the dinners to prepare...all the baths to run....you get my drift...I abso-toot-ley LOVE my kids... my bunny (aka Kent-o) and my job...but...I felt I was losing who I was... a part from being a mama and a wife...feeling so blah about who I was...and questioning if I'm laying the right foundation for the kidz....you know...all the worries it comes with signing up to have kidz...but the cross was mine to carry...and I felt many days turned towards prayer...getting up in the middle of the night..checking on the kids...I found myself in immediate prayer....from protecting the kids to guidance on how to be a PATIENT and LOVING parent....but these emails...the ones that are about mothers and stay at home mothers...really are read and re-read many times by myself...and Kent graciously always forwards me the ones that he gets along the way too....Kent-0 has always been my best cheerleader and will be the first one to tell me that he is proud that I am a stay at home mama....and with his strength and my family supporter's...I found my "aha" moment this summer (which is another LONG story) but I did want to leave you all with this email...which at the end...I had tears dripping off of my chin...being a mother not only a stay-at-home-mama*...is something so powerful...more than words can express...but the following story did move me to tears!
* (I DON'T want to offend those who cannot or who chose not to stay home...everyone is different and I embrace that!! I never in a million years thought I would be one..but being in DODDS it was an option that worked for Da' G' Unit ;-)
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 that 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.
* 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.
-- People may forget what you said. People may forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel!
Thank you Emily for passing "it" on!
(Emily...Jackson...and belly Grace)
(photographer: your's truly *wink*)
1 comment:
This post goes right along with the women's bible study I'm in. It also captures exactly the struggle I have had lately. A year into motherhood I've felt very...lost and w/o direction other than for those I serve. INSIGNIFICANT when I'm with YAYA all day but Bird wins all the love and admiration just for walking in the door. Today, though as I sat with Bird waiting for my smog test on my car to be complete, Yaya walked over to me put her head in my lap and said, "Mommy, you're my best friend." SHE'S 2! Who taught her such a phrase and why did she remember it or take note of it's meaning? (Dora the Explorer talked about Boots being her BF the other day. Other than that I can't figure it out. 1 mention from a cartoon and she chose me. Tears. Thank you for sharing you heart and this very important letter.
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