snobunny's Blog

A Tribute to Mothers

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, "Pick me up 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.

 

 

 

 

 

The Rules For Being Human - Cherie Carter-Scott

You will receive a body.
You may like it or hate it, but it will be yours for the entire period of this time around.

 You will learn lessons.
You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called Life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant and stupid.

There are no mistakes, only lessons.
Growth is a process of trial and error: Experimentation. The "failed" experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately "works."

A lesson is repeated until learned.
A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can then go on to the next lesson.

Learning lessons does not end.
There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

"There" is no better than "here."
When your "there" has become "here," you will simply obtain another "there" that will again look better than "here."

Others are merely mirrors of you.
You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects something you love or hate about yourself.

 What you make of your life is up to you.
You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.

Your answers lie inside you.
The answers to Life's questions lie inside you. All you need to do is look, listen, and trust.

You will forget all this.

I happened upon this poem, and it struck me, for so many reasons.  Maybe the state of the world today, or the bickering of late on an otherwise friendly blog.. who knows, but both could use some 'Tolerance'...

 

Tolerance Be My Guide

H Marshall
Scotland
2003

Illuminate the path that I may freely walk.
Waste not my time with negative talk.
Charge me not for slips of ignorant folly.
Elevate my spirit and guard me from melancholy.

Observe my humble expressions of gratitude.
Respect my agitated moods and solitude.
Wipe my eyes when they are dimmed with tears.
Forgive my heart's turmoil and occasional fears.

Attend the splendour of my transient dreams.
Accept my fragmented destiny is not what it seems.
Dispel from within, my fearful superstitions.
Dissipate my uncertain, childlike inhibitions.

Demand that I afford you the most profound courtesy.
Dispense an antidote for opinions voiced too easily.
And if I am presumptuous, and look at you askance,
Permit me not, each, and every instance.

Discourage all the obscure things I thought I needed.
Ignore the motives on which these acquisitions proceeded.
Have patience with me, during moments of greed.
Guide my hand to take, only what I need.

Challenge my soul to tolerate all religions.
Accept not prejudice, bigotry or divided regions.
Plague me not with cronies, corruption, or favour.
Help me prosper on the fruits of my own labour.

Grant me the right to novels, poems and plays.
Irrigate my mind with reading all my days.
Consider my contribution, no matter how unintelligible.
Encourage my masterpiece, no matter how improbable.

Engage my pursuits in the country picturesque.
Drag my feet away from the boring city desk.
Instill in me, natural simplicity and common manner.
Remind me of my ancestor's loyalty to the banner.

Restrain my profligacy, if I gain an embarrassed fortune.
Discipline my dealings, that I may play a generous tune.
Inspire in me compassion for my fellow man.
Tolerate my confusion, when I do not understand.

Protect me from the tendency, to extravagant length.
Fortify my feeble frame, when I suffer failing strength.
Receive my heart-felt thanks, for all you've done for me.
Content yourself that I'll strive, for the best I can be.

Cuddly white rabbit in search of snow, likes long walks in the forest after a fresh snowfall, favorite pastime is looking for carrots in a deep snow drift, born under the sign of snow and a devout member of the Church of Snow. Seeking available snow for marathon snowman making session... applicants can apply to Snobunny...

Currently accepting applications for snow... Looking to expand workforce... Great work enviroment... Plenty of fresh air. Must be a team player. References and experience not necessary... will train the right snow. All qualified snow should submit resumes to Snobunny.