This is forward I received in an email. I love it!!!


To all you wonderful "invisible" women...

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 the phone andask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm onthe 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 thecorner, 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? Canyou tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'mnot even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm asatellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm acar to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and theeyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seenagain. She's going ... she's going... she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of afriend 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 sittingthere, looking around at the others all put together so well. It washard 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 was clean.My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I couldactually smell peanut butter in it.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with abeautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was abook on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'dgiven it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, withadmiration 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 woulddiscover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, afterwhich I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record oftheir names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never seefinished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes ofGod saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit thecathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tinybird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why areyou spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will becovered 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 wasalmost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I seethe sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. Noact of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you'vebaked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building agreat cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not adisease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of myown self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. Asone 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 writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals couldever 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 friendhe's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes aturkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." Thatwould mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want himto want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to hisfriend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we'redoing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world willmarvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has beenadded to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.