[Lilji]

I saw this and it brougth tears to my eyes and I thought I'd share I'm Invisible

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 *** laude -
but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter.

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 hair 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: "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 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 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.

[DoctorDulitlBest]

That was beautiful, thank you for sharing.

[Paul Bunyan]

I just saw this posted on another board I go to- yesterday- wow, but yes, I often feel that way.