The Angry Mom Syndrome. I love reading this blog and would gladly share it as she seems to be looking right into my mind when she writes it.
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. The invisible Mom.
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.’ Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock?, Where’s my phone?, What’s for dinner? ‘
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature – but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going,she’s going, she’s gone!
A story of legend in a 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.’
And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names.
2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished
3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
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 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, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand 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.
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.
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. 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 mothers.
(I heard this story at a conference once, so I don’t know exactly who to credit, but what a blessing it has been to me, and hopefully to you too!)
Enjoy your new week friends!
Every 16th day of August I do stock taking, probably because it’s my birthday and I have this nagging desire in me to check if my life is moving forward. I know that sounds alot like being a perfectionist, but I pride myself in being a recovering perfectionist!
So is my life better than last year this time? Let me see…
My boys can drive me nuts more than half of the time but then they can be so sweet and considerate and loving more than half of the time too. Every year, with great secrecy, my birthday breakfast gets planned and executed. This morning I upgraded from scambled eggs and toast to coffee and cookies at half past four in the morning!
Their handwritten cards, hugs and kisses will make any difficult day for the rest of the year bearable.
At school I wonder if I ever make any impact on the children. Schooldays are very difficult most of the time, with children pushing every boundary, some even becoming downright rude sometimes. But then on my birthday morning, I get hugs from every child I meet as I walk to the assembly area, they all burst into “Happy birthday to you!” as soon as I round the corner, and my table groan under packages and letters written in their bestest handwriting to tell my I’m a cool teacher.
Some days I wonder if God remembers me? Things go wrong and I wish He can magically make it right. Like my car is a Skorro-skorro! It is on the road out of pure grace and mercy alone! But then again, God has promised us many things but never a smooth ride.
I look at my friends who I sometimes think have such busy lives that they don’t have time for me. Then they organise a picnic on the playground, at break while we are doing play-ground duty, and know, they still love me and care about me.
I receive sms’s, mails, tweets and facebook messages. I get phone calls from my brother, sister-in-law and nieces.
I am loved.
Life is good.
Thank you God. Thank you for giving me another day, a birthday! to celebrate life with my loved ones. Thank you for blessing me with health and good-looks!! (Haha , I had to put that in!) Thank God for blessing me more than I deserve.
Friends, I sincerely hope that your birthdays are just as precious and when you take stock, that you realise that every minute, every breath you take is good, even through the difficult days.
Have a super Friday and lovely weekend. I will…. my birthday will carry on this whole weekend!
During our winter holidays, I love:
1. Sleeping in, but then again the kids are still up at six.
2. Reading a magazine while lying in bed, but then again 4 children’s voices avidly discussing what they like and dislike distract me.
3. Spending more quiet time in prayer, but then again running and yelling down the passageway make it véry difficult to concentrate.
4. Window shopping to give me craft ideas, but then again I get bombarded with “can I get that toy!?” Or “I’m really hungry and tired, can we have lunch?” Or walking past the movies “We haven’t seen a movie in ages!”
5. Crafting but then again I get the “No-one plays with me!”
6. Knitting but then again the washing is a lot more and chores don’t seem to end.
So I’m not going to complain when my-time becomes their-time most of the time.
God gave me these arrows to shoot into the future and the only way I’m going to do that semi-right is if I spend time with them.
Love can sometimes be measured – in time.
How are you doing in the holidays friends?
So I can’t knit very well since I am left-handed, but my gran taught me how to help myself holding the knitting needles in an odd fashion, one tucked under my arm. And I really can’t read a knitting pattern.
But one of the loves in my life wanted gloves without fingers….
So I checked on pinterest and I phoned an aunt who is a wizz at knitting and I worked out a pattern that I can understand. Which means it has to be pretty easy!
I can only knit in my free time, which is becoming increasingly less with the midyear exams coming on and me helping at the aftercare at school too.
But I persevered! I’m so chuffed! My Ruhan-love sat big-eyed on my bed, watching me sow the sides closed. His anticipation matched my dread that it might not fit.
Oh joy! Everything fit perfectly! The joy on his little face is evident!!
Friends, sometimes something as simple as a pair of fingerless gloves can fill a love-tank. A colleague at work asked me why I bothered battling with the knitting if I probably could buy it for cheaper. I’ll show her this photograph in answer to her question.
Love is an act of service, a physical touch, a word of affirmation, special time spent and a gift given out of your heart.
What are you doing this week to fill a love-tank of one of those you love?