Well, I woke up early this morning {6 a.m.} to be ready for the maintenance man to arrive to fix the water leak. I roused Sean and let him know to be prepared. After about a while I went back and covered up to half-sleep until he either called or knocked on the door.
I dozed a little until Mom & Mamaw Stapleton called around 8 a.m. to wish me a Happy Birthday. Still no repair man....
Dad gave me a Birthday call around 8:30 a.m. Still no repair man...
Walter came down to get me to go to church at 8:45 a.m., but I still need to be here for the maintenance guy. So...I get to miss church today.
It is now going on 9:30 a.m. and still no maintenance guy. When he does get here he is going to get an ear full. At the pace he is going I would have been able to go on with my day as usual and not had to worry about being here.
Sean has had no trouble sleeping through every call and knock on the door. So when he does get up he should be very well rested.
The day has been a real drag...It is 1:30 p.m. and at this point I have been waiting for the maintenance man to arrive for over 8 1/2 hours. I spoke to him around 11 and he said he would be here in an hour and that he was coming from Colonial Heights. I'm supposing that his truck has broken down or some other such tragedy has occurred since he's not here yet.
Sean & I are trapped here until he comes. I've ordered us some Chinese and am getting on the phone to find out where in the world he is.
I made it to choir practice this evening. I dropped Sean off at home before I headed to the church. Practice went well and we are getting all prepared for the upcoming Christmas season.
Walter took me out to the Siam Paragon for Thai food this evening. He had alligator!! It it had the texture of pork.
The restaurant there always does such a beautiful presentation of the food. This was my dinner - a seafood special. It was almost too pretty to eat. The owner's wife brought me out a birthday Taro Custard with a little whipped cream on top and a candle. It was so cute!
A great end to an otherwise yucky day waiting on the maintenance man.
Email & Newsletter Gleanings:
Thought For the Day: We can put television in its proper light by supposing that Gutenberg's great invention had been directed at printing only comic books. - Robert M. Hutchins
After a very long and boring sermon the parishioners filed out of the church saying nothing to the preacher. Towards the end of the line was a thoughtful person who always commented on the sermons."Pastor, today your sermon reminded me of the peace and love of God."
The pastor was thrilled. "Nobody has ever said anything like that about my preaching before. Tell me why."
"Because it endured forever."
To all the great moms I know.
This is a story for all of the invisible cathedral builders commonly known as mothers...
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 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.
I dozed a little until Mom & Mamaw Stapleton called around 8 a.m. to wish me a Happy Birthday. Still no repair man....
Dad gave me a Birthday call around 8:30 a.m. Still no repair man...
Walter came down to get me to go to church at 8:45 a.m., but I still need to be here for the maintenance guy. So...I get to miss church today.
It is now going on 9:30 a.m. and still no maintenance guy. When he does get here he is going to get an ear full. At the pace he is going I would have been able to go on with my day as usual and not had to worry about being here.
Sean has had no trouble sleeping through every call and knock on the door. So when he does get up he should be very well rested.
The day has been a real drag...It is 1:30 p.m. and at this point I have been waiting for the maintenance man to arrive for over 8 1/2 hours. I spoke to him around 11 and he said he would be here in an hour and that he was coming from Colonial Heights. I'm supposing that his truck has broken down or some other such tragedy has occurred since he's not here yet.Sean & I are trapped here until he comes. I've ordered us some Chinese and am getting on the phone to find out where in the world he is.
I made it to choir practice this evening. I dropped Sean off at home before I headed to the church. Practice went well and we are getting all prepared for the upcoming Christmas season.
Walter took me out to the Siam Paragon for Thai food this evening. He had alligator!! It it had the texture of pork.The restaurant there always does such a beautiful presentation of the food. This was my dinner - a seafood special. It was almost too pretty to eat. The owner's wife brought me out a birthday Taro Custard with a little whipped cream on top and a candle. It was so cute!
A great end to an otherwise yucky day waiting on the maintenance man.
Email & Newsletter Gleanings:
Thought For the Day: We can put television in its proper light by supposing that Gutenberg's great invention had been directed at printing only comic books. - Robert M. Hutchins
Sermon Comment
After a very long and boring sermon the parishioners filed out of the church saying nothing to the preacher. Towards the end of the line was a thoughtful person who always commented on the sermons."Pastor, today your sermon reminded me of the peace and love of God."
The pastor was thrilled. "Nobody has ever said anything like that about my preaching before. Tell me why."
"Because it endured forever."
Cathedrals
To all the great moms I know.
This is a story for all of the invisible cathedral builders commonly known as mothers...
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 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.
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