Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day


I spoke in Church today (on Mother's Day) and what a special blessing it was. My Mom and Dad were able to come along with Kent's parents. Below is a part of my talk that meant so much to me to share...since we as mothers feel invisible at times.

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.

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 banana 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:

"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. I see the sacrifices yo u make every day, even when no one around you does. No a ct 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.

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 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.

When I read this at the first part of the year, I was touched and overwhelmed with emotion because how many of us here today feel invisible? How many of us feel that we are rolling a boulder up the steepest hill and there is no end or help in sight yet we can’t give up or stop because the consequences are absolute destruction. My favorite magnet on my fridge is the one my girlfriend gave me over 12 years ago. It says…’When you get to the end of your rope…tie a knot in it an Hang on’. As each year goes by my rope keeps getting longer and there are several knots at the end…but I’m hanging on because I know the reward when it’s all over is my eternal family.

3 comments:

Leah Martineau said...

Tava, thanks for sharing that. It made me cry!! It sure was a great reminder to look at the whole picture and why we are really here!! Thanks for that, you are awesome!!!

Shelley Goodman said...

I think your mom is so adorable. I can't get over her cute accent. Wow what a nice mothers day gift to be able to speak in church. I love your comments too!

Dawn Thomas said...

You are so right. I loved that story and in the end what else do we want or need except for our families! Thanks for always having such a positive attitude and sharing it. Love ya!

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