To The "Invisible" Moms

I received this in an email today, and I just wanted to share it with all you other moms out there. It is a moving story of one invisible mom, and it applies to us all. Blessings to all of you!

This excerpt is from Nicole Johnson's novel, The Invisible Woman (Thomas Nelson Inc., Nashville, TN, 2005) For more information, check out the author's Web site at www.freshbrewedlife.com.

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 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 hair 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.

Great Job, MOM!

There is no "MORE" to this post.

Photo courtesy of Stuck In Customs

The Best Blessing by Shalene Kearney

To you first, God, having raised up His Servant Jesus, sent Him to bless you, in turning away every one of you from your iniquities. Acts 3:26 NKJV

On November 13, 2004, my mother passed away suddenly of a heart attack in her sleep. She was 48 years old, and looked healthier than she had in years. (She had suffered through cancer, physical abuse, a gastric bypass and reversal- due to malnutrition, along with a host of other things.) Her passing devastated me. I was not yet a believer in my Lord. My mother and I had a love/ hate relationship for most of my life, but we were beginning to be friends when she died. In fact, I thank the Lord that the day before her death, she spent the day at my house playing with my kids and visiting with me. That in itself was a blessing, but not the one I want to talk to you about.

I spent the next three weeks in a grief induced daze. I became depressed and anxious; unable to sleep and unable to eat. I became a hollow eyed, skeleton of myself. But the worst was yet to come. On December 7, 2004, my husband learned that I had been spending money on some credit cards he thought were paid off, and I had kept this a secret from him. He wanted a divorce. A time when I thought I could feel no more pain, brought shards of glass shooting into my heart. The one best thing in my life, aside from my children, was going and it was all my fault for my deception. I now became passively suicidal- meaning that although I wasn't going to do it myself, I wished for an end to come. I also resented my children because they were the only thing that kept me from ending my life. I found myself wishing I didn't have them, because then I could end it. I knew where the gun was. I knew where the pills were, but I wouldn't leave them like I was.

I had begun seeing a counselor and taking medication for my depression and trauma, but as much as he was helping me to deal with the day to day grief, I was still only a shell of myself. I sat on my back porch one evening, thinking of the mess I had made of my life, wondering where I would go from here. Then a thought came to me. I remembered a time when I was young and upset about something that had happened, and had cried myself to sleep. While I was asleep, I had a dream that I crawled up into the lap of Jesus and as he cradled me like a baby, I cried out my tears of pain and he comforted me.

Now, for me this was huge. I was not a believer at this point in my life, but to remember something about a Savior I had long ago dismissed as fancy, and even argued against in conversation, and for that to be the only comfort I could think of.... I just fell to my knees. For the first time in years, I cried out to Him. I asked Him to save my marriage. I made promises, knowing full well that that isn't how He works (I remembered that from my childhood.) However the promise I made was not that I would be good, not that I would quit sinning, but that I would never doubt Him again. That I would follow Him all the rest of my days.

Now, I'm not so deluded as to think that God granted my prayer only because I made promises, but He did answer my prayer- rather quickly even. My husband had barely spoken to me in about two weeks. Him- the always affectionate husband, had not come near me to hug or kiss me in all that time. He was distancing himself for the divorce to come. However, not 10 minutes after I cried out to the Lord and asked Him to save my marriage, my husband joined me on the back porch, gave me a hug and a kiss and said that he had been thinking about it and wanted to work on our marriage, because he did love me! Now let me be clear here. No one knew I had just prayed and in fact would be shocked to learn that I would be keeping the promise I had just made. Especially that I had made such a promise.

While the answer to my prayer was and is a blessing- my husband and I are happily married now and have since had another child; the blessing that God gave me that day was turning me from my sinful ways. It was a painful lesson to be sure, and not one that I would like to repeat; but I would do it all again, to know the peace that only a love of God, and acceptance of Jesus as my Savior has brought to my life. I still have rough days, and the depression that my mother's death caused to be diagnosed, still lingers (it is genetic, not just stress induced); but I have peace knowing that my God will see me through, so long as I depend on Him, and not on myself.

If my story has touched you, won't you please consider asking God into your life, and accepting Christ as your Savior, if you have not already? And if you have, take a moment and thank God for the blessings he's bestowed upon you. Not just the obvious ones, but also the turning you away from your iniquiites.

Lord, I pray today that my personal testimony to your mercy and kindness will reach someone that needs to hear your words. I pray that through my pain, they will see an image of themselves and ask you to turn them from their sinful ways. I pray that you continue to use me and my life's story to reach out to others, and to Glorify Your Holy Name. I pray these things in Jesus Holy Name. Amen.


My Beautiful Mother