In a couple of hours, my cable network will be devoting the entire week to the wedding of the century. In 1981, Princess Diana and Prince Charles charmed the entire world with their fairy tale wedding. Prince William, the very fact that he is a prince makes the world sit up, plebians like me want to know how pompous the royal wedding will be. Prince William marrying a commoner would have earned him a few extra brownie points. This was the only thing that made me realized that the monarcy has opened up and have accepted that love meant everything, doesn’t matter Kate Middleton’s parents merely owned a party planning business albeit a rather successful one. I will be witnessing it on telly for the second time, the first when I am 9 and now 31 years later. To some, it may be their first. It will be a educational ride for my boys to see how being born into a royal family, the whole world wants to know you, every single detail that goes into the planning, consisting of security, logistical and every iota will be scrutinized. For me, it will be to know what Kate Middleton’s choice of flowers would be.
With so many weddings you hear about, there’s just about as much number of divorces you know about. Some even very close to home. Think about that aunt of yours, a friend, a sister, a brother or even yourself, who has been through a amicable or ugly divorce. Its so common these days, maybe we should have legalise a drive-thru divorce kiosk. I am sure somewhere around in this planet, some entrepreneurs are already cashing in on this one.
Not dwelling into the contractual obligations in the legal proceedings of a divorce. I just want to know at which point do you say, “listen up mate, I think I had enough of you, I don’t think I am going to spend the rest of my life living with you, goodbye, see you in another life!” I doubt there will ever me such a statement uttered to an ex-spouse. Surely there must be some good times to cherish, right? So how can you turn around and tell this person whom you stood with before the justice, pledging that “only will death do us part”? What happened to the vow? If it didn’t mean anything to you, why say it? Does that mean, marriage is simply an institution? Maybe marriage is passé. Two people in love, living together, have children, why is the marriage paper necessary?
We hear their stories, biased and often we don’t get to hear both sides of the story, its almost impossible to empathise with one and not feel anything for the other. Human beings are not made to be impartial. Lawyers are paid to be partial, so they need to take sides. I want to be on the side of the “victim”, but how sure are you that the other party is not the “victim”? A lawyer friend of mine discouraged my son from taking Law as a profession. Its tough and its miserable, I quote him. My friend refuses to handle divorce cases, it painful he said. This comes from someone who married a public prosecutor.
Maybe human beings are like any other animals, made to mate with multiple partners. So every marriage has a use by date…is that it? Having said that, I often marveled how some folks stay married for 50, 60 years. It’s so amazing, when two people, still holding hands like when they were 16 years old, still got the hots for each other when they are old and feeble, its often an awe, to wonder how they are made for one another probably until they reach the end of their lives. Quite recently, I read of an elderly couple in Canada winning the lottery. They were richer by several million. They gave away their winnings to charity. They are clueless on how to use the money and quite frankly, do they really need the money? That is 100% charity, 0% greed. I would just cringe, oh, just give me 10%, that’s all I need…
Marriage with a used by date? How did that happened? To be continued……
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Invisible Mother
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.’
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. 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 3 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 going to 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.
- a friend whom I least expected sent me this, came at a moment when I felt so vulnerable, so exhausted and everyone just wanted a piece of me. I cried as I was reading this. At times, it all gets too much. Behind the facade, I struggle to be the best mom, the perfect wife, the exemplary worker, to be in touch with my Saviour. How can one handle so much just to keep it all together. I have always felt invisible, but now I know someone is watching, God sees. That's all I care. If you can, share this with a someone you care about and let them know that they are appreciated.
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.’
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. 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 3 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 going to 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.
- a friend whom I least expected sent me this, came at a moment when I felt so vulnerable, so exhausted and everyone just wanted a piece of me. I cried as I was reading this. At times, it all gets too much. Behind the facade, I struggle to be the best mom, the perfect wife, the exemplary worker, to be in touch with my Saviour. How can one handle so much just to keep it all together. I have always felt invisible, but now I know someone is watching, God sees. That's all I care. If you can, share this with a someone you care about and let them know that they are appreciated.
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