Touchy

**WARNING! THIS IS A VERY 'POOR POOR ME' POST. I'M JUST HAVING ONE OF THOSE DAYS***

My MIL just sent this to me and I cried as I read it. I've had a case of The Grumps since last night. I couldn't quite figure out why I was being so pissy and having this inner dialog telling everyone to fuck off, but I was. I wasn't being TOO bitchy on the outside, but on the inside, I really just wanted everyone to leave me alone. Don't ask me for anything, cook your own damn dinner, don't talk to me about your computer game, don't have an endless conversation with me about your boyfriend, because really, I could care less about EVERYTHING! But if I talk and am not listened to, I pouted. I seriously pouted *sigh* last night and this morning have no been pretty.

Then I read that email and I was like "HA! That's IT! Nobody understands me, I'm being taken for granted" blah blah blah, whine, whine, cry, feel sorry for myself. Then I kept reading and was like "shit! I'm being crabby for no reason then just being crabby. Nobody has done anything to make me feel this way!" My family and the *coughmanycough* people that live here are NOT mind readers. If I'm feeling like things are getting to be a bit too much around here, I need to speak up. If I'm feeling crowded or being asked too many things, I can delegate! It really is OK! Dirty is MORE then capable of doing stuff around here, too. BUT...just because he doesn't do them like I do, doesn't mean it isn't "right". Hey, it's getting done, right? Right! Nobody runs this house like I do and that, my friends is just fine! This girl needs to speak up more and stop talking to herself so much. Obviously...is isn't working :-|

If you read the little story below, change the situation if you'd like to make it "work" for you. But it's a good read, it woke me up. Or just pass on it and tell me to STFU and quit being a whinny brat, because that works, too ;o)

Invisible Mother....

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. 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 sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is 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 My Dear Friend, 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. 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 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.