Discussion in 'Healthful Living / Natural Treatments' started by tycjcj, Feb 7, 2008.

  1. tycjcj

    tycjcj fighting for his rights

    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
    > 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
    > 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
    > 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
    > eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated - but now
    > 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
    > 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
    > 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
    > cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to
    > until I read her 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:
    > * 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
    > a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the
    > man, "Why are you spending s o 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
    > 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 ri ght now what it
    > 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
    > own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn
    > pride.
    > When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the
    > he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up
    > 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes
    > 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
    > say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
    > As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see if
    > doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world
    > 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.
  2. wakeupcall

    wakeupcall Well-Known Member

    tycjcj, what a really beautiful story. You made my day....thanks. Perhaps the day won't be so rough afterall.