Friday, August 6, 2010
Encouragement: The Invisible Woman
9:05 AM
by Nicole Johnson
It started to happen gradually…
One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?"
"Nobody," he shrugged.
Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only five, but as we crossed the street I thought, oh my goodness, nobody?
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family, like "Turn the TV down, please." And nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out to a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.
That's when I started putting all the pieces together. I don't think 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, 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. "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 would pattern my work:
And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece just push 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 else 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 will 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 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or monument to myself. I just want him to come home. And then if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it here."
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, at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Excerpt used without permission. © Nicole Johnson, Fresh Brewed Life, Inc. 2006
just being honest! :)
My friend, Kimberly posted this on FB & I thought it was just too great not to share.
It started to happen gradually…
One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?"
"Nobody," he shrugged.
Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only five, but as we crossed the street I thought, oh my goodness, nobody?
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family, like "Turn the TV down, please." And nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out to a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.
That's when I started putting all the pieces together. I don't think 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, 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. "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 would 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.
And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece just push 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 else 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 will 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 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or monument to myself. I just want him to come home. And then if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it here."
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, at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Excerpt used without permission. © Nicole Johnson, Fresh Brewed Life, Inc. 2006
just being honest! :)
My friend, Kimberly posted this on FB & I thought it was just too great not to share.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments
(Atom)
Just a Mom
I am NOT a doctor, nor do I play one on this blog.
I AM a wife.
I AM the mom of 3 wonderful children.
I AM my son's pancreas.
The information provided on this blog is from our personal experiences with Type 1 diabetes. Because something works for us does not mean it will work for you.
Please consult your doctor if you have any questions or concerns about your health care options.
I AM a wife.
I AM the mom of 3 wonderful children.
I AM my son's pancreas.
The information provided on this blog is from our personal experiences with Type 1 diabetes. Because something works for us does not mean it will work for you.
Please consult your doctor if you have any questions or concerns about your health care options.
Powered by Blogger.
Grab my button!
Check out these AWESOME
D-rent Blogs . . .
D-rent Blogs . . .
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2010
(136)
-
▼
August
(17)
- Screaming Reality
- Team Super Nate @ Chick-fil-A
- A Perfect and Practical Give-Away!!
- New LOVE!
- Thanking You . . .
- Alert! Alert! Read This NOW! DOC Unite for the ...
- Diabetes Dude is FLOCKING again!!!
- Nate's (NOT) 1st Day of School
- MWAH! A super big kiss from Super Nate!!
- Candy Hearts Blog Awesome Give Away!!
- Helping a DUDE out . . .
- In case you were wondering . . .
- Encouragement: The Invisible Woman
- My Hero
- Future D Blogger
- How Nate got high . . .
- From Beep Beep Beep to Buzz Buzz Buzz
-
▼
August
(17)
My Blog List
-
473 days ago
-
Whole-Food Smoothie for Crohn's Disease6 months ago
-
-
-
Winter Solstice10 months ago
-
-
A Thing to Remember2 years ago
-
I'm Moving!2 years ago
-
-
The Shift...4 years ago
-
Shadows in Sunshine4 years ago
-
10 years ago...4 years ago
-
Keystone First denial - I win4 years ago
-
-
-
#DAM Drinking Plan5 years ago
-
10th grade6 years ago
-
-
-
The gun in my basement.6 years ago
-
Chronic Illness and Mental Health…7 years ago
-
-
-
Happy Easter 20168 years ago
-
-
-
Hope8 years ago
-
10 Years Ago Today9 years ago
-
UPDATES UPDATES UPDATES9 years ago
-
-
Diabetes Resolutions9 years ago
-
T-Slim - I'm beginning to love you...10 years ago
-
-
Worry...Worry...WORRY!10 years ago
-
Anyone have ink?10 years ago
-
-
-
Goodbye Sweet Friend11 years ago
-
For You, My Friend11 years ago
-
-
For Shamae11 years ago
-
Karen Jensen, RD11 years ago
-
Callan11 years ago
-
-
3 Years11 years ago
-
Email Subscriptions.11 years ago
-
Bye Bye Insulet, Hello Medtronic11 years ago
-
-
Hope on 2 Wheels Documentary11 years ago
-
-
Cross Talk Radio Show Link :)12 years ago
-
Back to School - Our Lunch Time Dilemma12 years ago
-
-
How To Manage Your Stockpile12 years ago
-
Russian Custard12 years ago
-
Diabetes Tourettes12 years ago
-
A story12 years ago
-
10 years12 years ago
-
Were Off to see the Wizard12 years ago
-
I’m Just Not That Into This.12 years ago
-
CBS 5... Shame On You!12 years ago
-
JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes13 years ago
-
totally random13 years ago
-
I think I can breath again13 years ago
-
-
Weekend Meme13 years ago
-
Think positive...13 years ago
-
Lipoatrophy13 years ago
-
-
-
Weekly Sugar Bolus13 years ago
-
-
Missing.....13 years ago
-
I'm BACK!14 years ago
-
-
SleepOVERS!!!14 years ago
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
8 comments:
Love it! So beautiful and so very true! Thanks for sharing it!
LOVE IT!!!!
again I'm crying, sometimes being a mother is tough...then there are reminders like this of how so much is meaningful that we feel the profoundness of it all!
Well, I'm crying like a baby...ugh. This one really hit home.
Okay, I am crying and really needed that today. Thanks for sharing!
Have you seen the skit on youtube? Nicole does a phenomenal job. I love her work so much! Thanks for posting this.
This is just what I needed, Laura. I've been feeling very invisible lately....and it's just made me mad!
I need to work on my attitude. : )
Thank you for sharing!!! This is beautiful Laura. Have a great weekend!