






I'm torn between truly documenting how i feel or only focusing on the good....i'm not a fake kind of person but at the same time i don't think its right to focus on the negative so i suppose ill blog about today but make it a little lighter then how i'm really feeling,
8:00 a.m I woke up to the sweetest mini voices EXCITED TO SURPRISE ME & SOME OF THE MOST THOUGHTFUL TEXT MESSAGES A WOMAN COULD ASK FOR!
8:30 A.M. (after coffee) I dished wes & the kids up some muffins,fruit yogurt juice & coffee
9:00 A.M. Went on my facebook games and got cleaned up while wes & the girls watched a movie
12:00 P.M. went prancing through the house begging wes if we could get out of the house because i was getting cabin fever....
1:00p.m. i said, "well i guess if all you guys are gonna do is watch movies & play wii while i cook for you im gonna take my mom flowers & a card because i don't sit in the house this much on NON-holiday"...that's when they girls wanted to come because they didn't wanna be without me...
2:00 p.m. decided to walk around the mall and browse for mother's day sales because me & the girls love to do that :) watched a woman get arrested for shoplifting,bought Caleb super cute sesame street jammies!

4:30 p.m. asked wes if he had anything planned for dinner because i cook the remaining 364 days out of the year,he didn't.went & got a mother's day dinner to cook myself....cooked it,served it to everyone (this is where Chloe started crying because she wished she was old enough to cook so her mama didn't have to do it on mother's day) ...this is also where Hannah thanked God for her meal and asked him to put angels around her family & asked God to show daddy that it was mother's day not fathers day eeks! I love love love my princess' & prince.
7:00 pm...my mom showed up to give me a card & love & cheer me up while I made lunches for the morning.
8:30 p.m. the kids went to bed...and now im here.:)
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 taxi 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 with honors -- 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.
