building a cathedral

Several months ago I received this email from a mom I don't know, who subscribes to a list that I also subscribe to. It is entitled, "The Invisible Mom". I thought about posting it, but decided not to because of the length, then heard it read on Dr. Laura as her "email of the day" on my way home from school today. I remembered how much I loved it, and I hope you'll take the time to read it. It's worth it.

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. 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 daughter to tell the friend
she'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 her
to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her
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.

my best ever yard sale find was at my own yard sale in 1998

Everyone who knows me knows I love a good yard sale. To me it's like a treasure hunt, and exciting....you never know what you might find. This post is the story of an unexpected treasure I found at my own yard sale.

We met when she and her entourage of daycare kids came tumbling down Tweedsmuir Drive in strollers and wagons to our yard sale shortly after we moved in. She reminded me of the pied piper and her magic was worked on me like so many others..... and my heart told me we'd be friends forever. She bought the Fred Flintstone car at our yard sale......and that was the beginning of what has blossomed over the years into what I consider to be a rare friendship.

She's the friend every woman wishes they had. The "girl next door" (in my case, down the street), who calls you up after dark to meet her on the corner to share a piece of decadently dark chocolate from Trader Joes....the friend you know you can call on for help in any crisis, and she'll drop everything.....who makes you feel loved and accepted, even though she's seen you at your worst. She loves you just the way you are. She loves your kids like her own, and they love her like a second mother.....someone who is genuinely interested in every aspect of your life....who is completely real, and so unpretentious....who has a heart big enough to include everything and everyone, including stray animals and stray people....someone you can talk to about anything and everything and for hours on end. Someone who makes you feel like a kid again...full of adventure and possibility. Who would defend you to the end...who laughs with you, cries with you, and always knows just what to do and say in any situation. This is my friend, my "BFF", and I love her. I have learned so much from her, and want to be more like her. I want to have her gratitude for the little things, her humility, her unselfishness, her faith, her wisdom.

I have many that I call "friend", each with their own little special corner of my heart, all for different wonderful reasons. But today I want to pay tribute to Danelle, my Nelly, who is the best and most unexpected treasure I have ever found at a yard sale....strangely, it just happened to be my own.

Wisdom

Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful, or joyful.

My sister Kristen emailed me this slideshow entitled "A Beautiful Life"this morning, which included this bit of wisdom.
As I begin cleaning out the clutter in my life, starting with my bedroom today, I'll use this as my guide. I'm sure it will work for cleaning out the clutter inside my head as well! You'll have to view the slideshow...each page with great words to live by. Just click on the title "Wisdom", and you're there! Have a great day!

what I didn't buy today

Recently I had a very satisfying phone "conversation" with Allison. She was at home mending her jeans, while I read to her from my new favorite book. It is fun to be together when we can't BE together. The book is called "Thinking About Memoir" by Abigail Thomas, a writing teacher and successful memoirist. She counsels her readers to have a habit of daily writing as a way to "seed the clouds in the front and the back of your mind." To keep a notebook handy and "scribble in it everywhere." In August, on a visit, I was reading excerpts of this book to my son-in-law, Mike, who is studying Creative Writing at Utah State University. On my next visit in November, one morning he surprised me with my own moleskin notebook and Tul pen. With the best of intentions, I began writing, but loved this notebook so much that until today, I have kept it in a ziploc bag in my nightstand so that nothing could harm it. Today I liberated it and put it in my purse so that I can do as Abigail counsels: "Everything goes in: grocery lists, things to do, random observations, knitting patterns, recipes, overheard dialogue, everything....Think of it as the written equivalent of singing in the shower." Her book has inspired me to follow through on my desire to someday write my memoir. One of the entries in Abigail's diary is "What I Am Not Buying Today", and she has a list of things she saw and wanted to buy, but didn't. Here is my list of things I saw last night as Frank and I were out picking up a few things....things I thought about buying, but didn't.

No Curious George book about phonics
No package of 3 pairs of garden gloves in 3 attractive shades of green
No flax seed
No red spring baby outfit, 12 month size
No peach pie

So I'm curious....what did you not buy today?

jumping to conclusions

This morning when I took my vitamins, I smiled as I remembered the breakfast table in our house growing up on Wilbur Avenue. Mom had discovered vitamins, and each morning when we'd come to the table, which was always set, there would be a neat little line of vitamins of every color and shape at each of our places. I remember her saying, "This one's for your heart, this one's for your skin, this one's to make your bones strong..." and on down the line. I could never imagine having to put one of those things in my mouth, possibly taste it, much less swallow it! So I would eat my breakfast, then "pretend" to take my vitamins.....but really they were clenched in my hand. I'd go to the bathroom and flush them down the sink drain. I started to feel guilty wasting them, so I switched to concealing them in my underwear drawer. In no time I had quite an assortment in there, as you can imagine. Then, one day, my mom was babysitting her granddaughter Mindy (my niece) who was probably two at the time. Mindy came out of my bedroom with kind of a pasty blue residue around her mouth. Mom saw my open underwear drawer and immediately jumped to a conclusion. She had bought us girls some bright blue solid sachet tablets to put in our drawers to make everything smell nice. She concluded that Mindy must have eaten one, so she rushed to the drug store, bought syrup of ipecac, administered it to Mindy, and Mindy was puking her guts out before they could even leave the parking lot. Upon returning home, my mom discovered my stash of vitamins. All Mindy had done was eat one blue vitamin, which I'm sure was really good for her. Poor Mindy. Mom felt terrible.....and I was busted.

I myself jump to conclusions all the time. If I sense the possibility of danger, in a split second I can envision the whole tragedy from beginning to end. One day when the girls were little, we spent the day swimming at the Mill Pond. We came home tired and sunburned, but decided it would be fun to paint the girls' nails. I put the nail polish remover behind me on the toilet seat so that my little Emily (age 1 1/2) wouldn't get it, because I had this fear that she might drink it. I got busy painting nails, and the next thing I knew, I heard the splash when the bottle hit the floor. I whirled around and saw Emily's eyes, big and red, her mouth open in an "O" shape. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that she drank some, and that it also splashed in her eyes. Since she wasn't crying, I concluded that she wasn't breathing. In a panic, I snatched her up, and we raced to the hospital on top of the hill. In the emergency room the nurses pinned her down and forced her eyes open so they could flush her eyes for 20 minutes with a giant syringe of cold water. She screamed for about 10 minutes straight, until she was exhausted and fell asleep. They continued flushing her eyes for another 10 minutes. Meanwhile, Allison, Samantha, and Charley huddled together in the corner of the room, their faces buried in the corner, bawling their eyes out. It was traumatic. But I had saved her from possible blindness. On the way home, I heard the following conversation in the back seat of the car:
Allison: "Emily, did you drink it?"
Em: "No.......".
Sammy: "Did you get it in your eyes?"
Em: "No......."
Oh dear.....So all she did was knock it over. Poor Emily....Her eyes were simply red from too much sunshine that day, her mouth in an "O" of surprise...that's all. Nothing more.
Lesson learned? Somewhat. I try not to jump to conclusions, and you better believe Emily steers clear of the nail polish remover.