Invisible, this is a long one

My friend Sherrill Naylor sent me this email some time ago. I LOVE it. Hope you do too. It's about moms:

I'M INVISIBLE! It started to happen gradually.One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding hishand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard saidto him, 'Who is that with you, young fella?''Nobody,' he shrugged.Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as wecrossed the street I thought, 'Oh my goodness, nobody?'I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would saysomething to my family - like 'Turn the TV down, please' - and nothingwould happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. Iwould stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a littlelouder, 'Would someone turn the TV down?' Nothing.Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'dbeen there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed hewas talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there wasa break in the conversation, I whispered, 'I'm ready to go when youare.' He just kept right on talking.That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don'tthink he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me.I'm invisible.It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, theway one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on thephone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you seeI'm on the phone?' Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, orcooking, 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 fixthis? 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 around5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once heldbooks and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduatedsumma 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 thereturn of a friend from England . Janice had just gotten back from afabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I wassitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. Itwas hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at myout-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that wasclean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid Icould actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling prettypathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, andsaid, 'I brought you this.'It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn't exactly sure whyshe'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte, withadmiration for the greatness of what you are building when noone sees.'In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And Iwould 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 norecord of their names.These builders gave their whole lives for a work they wouldnever see finished.They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that theeyes of God saw everything.A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came tovisit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carvinga 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 thatwill covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workmanreplied, 'Because God sees.'I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. Itwas 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 youdoes. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, nocupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. Youare building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it willbecome.'At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not adisease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the diseaseof my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubbornpride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a greatbuilder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never seefinished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writerof the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built inour lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice tothat degree.When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell thefriend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes aturkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.'That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. Ijust want him to want to come home.And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, toadd, 'You're gonna love it there.'As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seenif we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the worldwill marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty thathas been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.