I can't take credit for this post, as it appeared in my inbox recently. I can, however share it, because I was so blessed by it. As moms, we get caught up in the minute-to-minute realities of life with kids, and it's easy to lose sight of what we're working so frantically for. So read, enjoy, and be encouraged!
The Invisible Mother.....
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids would walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken somewhere. 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 ride to somewhere 'Right around 5:30 please.'
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:
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 whatsoever.
4 – 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; in fact, 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. Instead, I just want her to want to come home. If she says anything at all to her friend I would like it to be 'You're gonna love it here.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see 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.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tearful Day
Mother's Day
Call me a sap, a sentimental fool, an emotional what-have-you -- but I've spent most of today in tears or on the verge of tears. It's Mother's Day, after all, and and I was greeted this morning by sweet kisses from my monkey boy, hugs from the others (sniffle!), and off to mass I went. The book I referenced in the last post is still on my reading list, and I am learning to see a very human Jesus, and recognizing in newer, broader ways just how miraculous the incarnation is. All that new, fresh awareness bouncing around in my head is particularly overwhelming at mass, when the reality of that incarnation is staring me in the face. (Tears again.) Not only that, but our esteemed music director chose to use the Regina Coeli chant and an Ave Maria based on on the 13th century chant of the same text. (Sniffle, gulp!)
A quick trip home, get the boys all spit-shined and polished, then off to mass again. Three sweet boys in the pew with me, and my two fine young men serving at the altar. What proud Mama wouldn't cry? Just a little?
After church and a wardrobe change for everyone, we all piled in the van again to go to my nephew's first communion party. There was no shortage of tears in the reminiscences scattered through the day -- my mother-in-law and my grandmother are both three years gone this year. We stopped at the cemetery on the way home to leave a rose for Mom. There were tears all around, and more tears at bedtime from our two oldest, who have the most vivid memories of Grandma Mary.
Off to the chapel at midnight, and there were tears to offer there, as well. Tears of thanksgiving, joy, penitence. Tears of grief and petition, some for me, some for others. Then into bed with one more tear as I sigh, content, that my dear husband sleeps beside me, my sweet boys dream in their own beds, and my Father has ordered it, just so, in his abundant mercy.
Call me a sap, a sentimental fool, an emotional what-have-you -- but I've spent most of today in tears or on the verge of tears. It's Mother's Day, after all, and and I was greeted this morning by sweet kisses from my monkey boy, hugs from the others (sniffle!), and off to mass I went. The book I referenced in the last post is still on my reading list, and I am learning to see a very human Jesus, and recognizing in newer, broader ways just how miraculous the incarnation is. All that new, fresh awareness bouncing around in my head is particularly overwhelming at mass, when the reality of that incarnation is staring me in the face. (Tears again.) Not only that, but our esteemed music director chose to use the Regina Coeli chant and an Ave Maria based on on the 13th century chant of the same text. (Sniffle, gulp!)
A quick trip home, get the boys all spit-shined and polished, then off to mass again. Three sweet boys in the pew with me, and my two fine young men serving at the altar. What proud Mama wouldn't cry? Just a little?
After church and a wardrobe change for everyone, we all piled in the van again to go to my nephew's first communion party. There was no shortage of tears in the reminiscences scattered through the day -- my mother-in-law and my grandmother are both three years gone this year. We stopped at the cemetery on the way home to leave a rose for Mom. There were tears all around, and more tears at bedtime from our two oldest, who have the most vivid memories of Grandma Mary.
Off to the chapel at midnight, and there were tears to offer there, as well. Tears of thanksgiving, joy, penitence. Tears of grief and petition, some for me, some for others. Then into bed with one more tear as I sigh, content, that my dear husband sleeps beside me, my sweet boys dream in their own beds, and my Father has ordered it, just so, in his abundant mercy.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Happy Easter!
I love Easter, and I love that as Catholics, we celebrate the Easter season, not just the day. We'll be alleluia-ing like crazy until Pentecost. Gotta love that....
There's a new feature on the blog...I added a "what I'm reading" spot. The current link is a book I picked up in response to the "Consider the Source" post from a couple of weeks ago. I'm loving it, but it's a challenging read. If I can get through a whole chapter at a sitting, then I'm doing well. Usually it's just a couple of pages. So very much to think about!
So what are you reading now?
There's a new feature on the blog...I added a "what I'm reading" spot. The current link is a book I picked up in response to the "Consider the Source" post from a couple of weeks ago. I'm loving it, but it's a challenging read. If I can get through a whole chapter at a sitting, then I'm doing well. Usually it's just a couple of pages. So very much to think about!
So what are you reading now?
Saturday, April 11, 2009
While we wait...
This is from an ancient homily on Holy Saturday, and is part of the office of readings for the day. The Liturgy of the Hours is a distinctly Catholic thing, but this reading speaks to all of us who wait, poised to celebrate the Resurrection tomorrow morning. I was so moved by it that I wanted to share it, and hope that you are blessed by it as well.
Something strange is happening -- there is a great silence on Earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him, Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: "My Lord be with you all." Christ answered him: "And with your spirit." He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: "Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."
I am your God, who for your sake has become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home in above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Something strange is happening -- there is a great silence on Earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear. He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him, Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: "My Lord be with you all." Christ answered him: "And with your spirit." He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: "Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."
I am your God, who for your sake has become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home in above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Consider the Source
I've been accused of not existing outside my own mind. That's a stinging observation, to be sure, but Grandma always said "consider the source." Considering the source, this deserved some serious reflection (proving the point, perhaps?). The more I've reflected, the more I've had to admit that it just might be correct.
I've never been the physical type. I'm not athletic or particularly adventurous. My physical interaction with the world around me is limited to things that help me relate to the non-physical. I'm the spiritual, thinking, feeling, contemplating, theorizing type, and I've always considered the mystical and the eternal to be superior to the concrete and temporal. I've even caught myself (God forgive me!) resenting the immediate, here and now realities that claim my attention and my energy because they take me away from the "things that really matter." But here's the kick-in-the-teeth-reality-check of the day: Christ embraced humanity to the point of becoming human. The God of the universe deigned to encompass His deity in human flesh -- to step into the temporal, physical world and walk among us as a man. He was raised in a traditional Jewish home; isn't it reasonable to assume that he was taught Joseph's trade? He hung out with fishermen; isn't it probable that he did some net-hauling along the way? Jesus laughed, cried, worked, played, celebrated and mourned...as a man!
I don't do well with managing my time or my tasks...the time seems to get away with the tasks undone, or ten other things demand attention and my "did it" list at the end of the day looks nothing like my "to do" list did at the beginning. I get so frustrated with things that seem so easy to other moms but that I can't seem to grasp. I can read, research, write, and plan, but in the practical application, I always seem to miss the mark completely. I've never been able to marry my contemplative personality to the practical necessities of my world, no matter how hard I try. Perhaps it's time for a new approach....
If I am to truly embrace Christ, mustn't I embrace his humanity just as fervently as I embrace his deity? He is fully God and fully man, body and blood, soul and divinity. No element is extricable from the others. I have to look again at this savior of mine, and open my heart to see him more clearly.
We are on the cusp of Holy Week, and I am challenged in a new way. Fully human, the God of all creation bore the entirety of human suffering and sin, obedient even to a disgraceful and gruesome death. Can I embrace Christ in his humanity now? Can I see what was here, temporally present, and embrace it rather than looking past it to the resurrection? The battle for salvation was won on Sunday morning, but it was fought at its fiercest in the garden, before the Sanhedrin, and on the cross. Is Christ in his humanity the key to my freedom in mine? Consider the source....
I've never been the physical type. I'm not athletic or particularly adventurous. My physical interaction with the world around me is limited to things that help me relate to the non-physical. I'm the spiritual, thinking, feeling, contemplating, theorizing type, and I've always considered the mystical and the eternal to be superior to the concrete and temporal. I've even caught myself (God forgive me!) resenting the immediate, here and now realities that claim my attention and my energy because they take me away from the "things that really matter." But here's the kick-in-the-teeth-reality-check of the day: Christ embraced humanity to the point of becoming human. The God of the universe deigned to encompass His deity in human flesh -- to step into the temporal, physical world and walk among us as a man. He was raised in a traditional Jewish home; isn't it reasonable to assume that he was taught Joseph's trade? He hung out with fishermen; isn't it probable that he did some net-hauling along the way? Jesus laughed, cried, worked, played, celebrated and mourned...as a man!
I don't do well with managing my time or my tasks...the time seems to get away with the tasks undone, or ten other things demand attention and my "did it" list at the end of the day looks nothing like my "to do" list did at the beginning. I get so frustrated with things that seem so easy to other moms but that I can't seem to grasp. I can read, research, write, and plan, but in the practical application, I always seem to miss the mark completely. I've never been able to marry my contemplative personality to the practical necessities of my world, no matter how hard I try. Perhaps it's time for a new approach....
If I am to truly embrace Christ, mustn't I embrace his humanity just as fervently as I embrace his deity? He is fully God and fully man, body and blood, soul and divinity. No element is extricable from the others. I have to look again at this savior of mine, and open my heart to see him more clearly.
We are on the cusp of Holy Week, and I am challenged in a new way. Fully human, the God of all creation bore the entirety of human suffering and sin, obedient even to a disgraceful and gruesome death. Can I embrace Christ in his humanity now? Can I see what was here, temporally present, and embrace it rather than looking past it to the resurrection? The battle for salvation was won on Sunday morning, but it was fought at its fiercest in the garden, before the Sanhedrin, and on the cross. Is Christ in his humanity the key to my freedom in mine? Consider the source....
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The List of What Went Right
The day wasn't a total loss, after all!
1. The choir sang at the mall, and no one threw rotten tomatoes.
2. We had french toast and scrambled eggs for dinner...always a good thing. And the kids cleared and rinsed their plates without a fight.
3. Mr. Redsocks had lots of here-there-and-everywhere stuff to do yesterday, and he made it home safely and without major incident.
4. I managed to get a couple of loads of laundry done so no one had to go to Mass naked this morning.
5. A skilled friend agreed to come and hang our old kitchen cabinets so we can use them until we can afford new ones.
6. My children, despite the fact that they drove me crazy, gave me hugs and kisses goodnight when I tucked them in.
7. I was kept in the hollow of my Father's hand, preserved from harm, and granted his provision for another day by his love and grace.
8. I have stuff to do today -- another chance to do better! And a reason to cut this post short and get busy, because my blessings are innumerable!
1. The choir sang at the mall, and no one threw rotten tomatoes.
2. We had french toast and scrambled eggs for dinner...always a good thing. And the kids cleared and rinsed their plates without a fight.
3. Mr. Redsocks had lots of here-there-and-everywhere stuff to do yesterday, and he made it home safely and without major incident.
4. I managed to get a couple of loads of laundry done so no one had to go to Mass naked this morning.
5. A skilled friend agreed to come and hang our old kitchen cabinets so we can use them until we can afford new ones.
6. My children, despite the fact that they drove me crazy, gave me hugs and kisses goodnight when I tucked them in.
7. I was kept in the hollow of my Father's hand, preserved from harm, and granted his provision for another day by his love and grace.
8. I have stuff to do today -- another chance to do better! And a reason to cut this post short and get busy, because my blessings are innumerable!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Misnomer?
This blog is subtitled "what went right when things went wrong...". Today, however, I'm having a hard time finding the "what went right." I'm feeling behind the game so far that I'm not sure I'll ever get close enough to eat last place's dust. I also suspect that no amount of chocolate, ice cream, or other mind-numbing, soul-soothing delight is gonna make this one better. In fact, a "pause" button is all I can think of that would truly be helpful -- freeze everyone and everything else around, take a moment to clear my head, make a well-prioritized to-do list, and then tackle it, uninterrupted, one task at a time. So far no luck on that one, either.
Here's the part where I grit my teeth, pray for enough sanity to make it until bedtime, and head to the kitchen to start dinner. I'm definitely wearing my red socks to bed tonight, and taking time to make a list of what did indeed go right today. I'm sure there's something. It's just going too fast to see from this close....
Here's the part where I grit my teeth, pray for enough sanity to make it until bedtime, and head to the kitchen to start dinner. I'm definitely wearing my red socks to bed tonight, and taking time to make a list of what did indeed go right today. I'm sure there's something. It's just going too fast to see from this close....
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