A Mother, A Builder

This is a nice story about the work of mothers that has been floating around the blogosphere this week. I hope that each of you mothers feel of your worth and have a special day today. Mom, endure the story or skim down for a message to you.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids walks into the room while I’m on the phone and asks 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, 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. 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 3 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. But 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.



Mom,

It has become amazingly clear to me now (as mother of four myself) just how busy and tired you must have been when Nate, Andy, Ella and I were underfoot. I completely get the 20 min naps when you would excuse yourself, lay on the couch with a pillow covering your ears and try to take a little down time. And truly there were times when us kids were terrible, but you loved us still.

Thank you for your cheerful example of service. Thank you for taking the smallest piece of corn on the cob, for patiently picking up popsicle wrappers from the floor, for making wonderful meals for us to eat as a family every day, for finding that shirt that I just couldn't see in my closet, for always being a listening ear and ally, for showing trust in me to make my own decisions and supporting me through them, for taking the family to church every Sunday and enduring our childish antics during sacrament meeting, and for nurturing your marriage that blessed us children with a loving a safe home.

You have taught me that the important things in life are not fancy or expensive; they are the giving of one's time and heart. You have taught me that the opinion of the world is trivial, but my worth is great in the sight of God.

I love you, Mom and am so grateful for all that you have done and continue to do as my mother and now as a grandmother. I'm so glad that my children know the special mother that is responsible for all things good in me.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Clair