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,
Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my
phone?, What's for dinner?'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history, music and literature -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
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 she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and
said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of
inscription: '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: 1) No one can say who built the great
cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave
their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made
great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their
building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God s aw everything.
A story of legend 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, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand 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.
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 monument to myself. I just want him to want to come
home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd
say, '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 mothers.
Thank you to all the Moms who are looking down and smiling at the
cathedrals they helped to build.
Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know.
The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not
To all the wonderful mothers out there!! God bless and keep you
I can most certainly live with a High of 15 on "Mother's Day", hoping it will, however impossible, be equally as nice for all the Mother's in the World.
I think I will go forward into my "Mother's Day" celebration by having a second cup of Java, "Just North of Wiarton & South of the Checkerboard".