Invisible Moms
A friend sent this to me in an e-mail today. I know I have been invisible, and some of you may relate to it, too. It’s long, but well worth the read.
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 5, 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 at 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 to put 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 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 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.
“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s
Spirit lives in you?” I Cor.3:16
The Arab Way
My husband and I were very young when we first came to live in the Middle East, back to back embassy assignments, first in Tunisia, and then in Jordan. Before those assignments, we had spent two years learning about the culture, and my husband spoke Arabic and I spoke French. It didn’t matter. We were still woefully ignorant. (And we are still learning!)
People would call us, asking for favors, especially visas and getting their kids into U.S. colleges. We would look at each other in astonishment. How could they think their kids could get into college without passing the tests? How did they think their cousin could get into pilot training when there were other, better qualified candidates? And we learned, that with the right connections, exceptions are made.
We got smarter. We were travelling back in Germany, and wanted to stay in military lodging, but all the rooms were taken. We decided to go get something to eat, and at dinner, I said to my husband “let’s try doing it the Arab way.” He looked at me and said “Whaaaaaattt?”
“Take your orders that say we are with the embassy and on special leave” I told him. “Tell them we just got in, and just need a place for tonight.”
“But they don’t have any rooms!” Adventure Man protested.
“They always hold rooms back for special circumstances, for pilots, for emergencies,” I countered. “Make us special.”
We finished dinner, and felt better with our blood sugars back up. Adventure Man became his charming persona, and we went back to the hotel. He was inside for a bare two minutes, and came back out grinning, and holding a key.
We have learned an important lesson. Yes, there are policies. Yes, there are rules. Yes, there are the way things are done, customs, traditions, inviolable.
But there are also exceptions, and they are based on personal relationships.
Our insurance company told us they would no longer insure our Florida house, too much risk exposure in Florida. We went to a lot of trouble to try to meet a guideline that would allow us to be an exception – to no avail. Yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone with one person who was persistently pleasant in telling me it was not possible. I told her that telling me what a great customer I was, and how they valued our loyalty didn’t ring true when they would abandon us after all our years of being good customers. I didn’t blame her, personally, but neither was I buying all this pleasant stuff, when the bottom line was money, not loyalty.
I hung up the phone with a huge pit in my stomach – this cloud, this worry has hung over my head all summer, and now my worst fears had come true and I would have to seek new, less reliable, insurance. But I decided to put it off until tomorrow, no point trying to do something when you feel really depressed.
Late last night, we were in those early hours of dead-drooling sleep, the phone rang, and it was the insurance representative calling us back. Four hours after our phone call, the phone call which had been “the final answer” she was calling me back to say she had found a way, and our policy was being re-instated.
Thanks be to God! The Arab way worked, even though I wasn’t consciously using the Arab way, probably my thinly veiled anger and frustration and bottom line TERROR had gotten through to her. I thought it was over, but God was working behind the scenes, and a miracle happened.
We are still learning; we still have a lot to learn, and living in this culture helps us continue learning a new tools, additional strategies, for our tool box.
Back it Up! #1
It’s easy to get discouraged when bad news strikes, and especially when a lot of bad news strikes at once.
In the midst of the Turkish blogging blockage, and in the midst of the Kuwait blogger crisis, the heavens open and a great light brightens the whole day:
I guess the Kuwait Times didn’t think this story was important enough to put it online, but in Sunday’s Kuwait Times (August 19), page 5, there are two photos of ARLA Food staff members helping out the 1,300 Bangladeshi workers who have been in on strike trying to get paid and to get decent, reliable living conditions.
Now this is what I call backing it up – they show up with food, AND they donate a refrigerator to keep the cold food cold. (I hope there is someplace the workers can plug the refrigerator in!)
“The Arla Food staff members were accompanied by Reverend Andy Thompson, who oversaw the distribution of the aid.”
I know the good Reverend Andy Thompson. He is passionate about his faith, and he lives his faith. He is appalled that we can become so callous, so hard hearted about the conditions of these workers, the poorest of the poor, earning KD20 a month, and trying to live, eat and send money home on those wages – when they get paid.
But Andy Thompson is doing something about it. Working with other committed local citizens, he is working on the most basic level to make sure these workers are getting food to eat, while at the same time trying to find some way to make sure these workers get their lawful rights.
I read the Qur’an, but I am not very good at remembering where I read what I remember. I remember a verse about being sure the sweat has not dried on the laboror’s back before you pay him. How can an employer not pay his employees?
Bless you, ARLA Food staff members, for your generous donation, and your caring service to these workers, and bless you, Father Andy, and prosper the work of your hands!
Cheap Gas
Back in Florida, I went to church with my son and his wife. The preacher at this church was very very good. Why do I think so? Because what he said has stuck with me all this time. Here is what he said:
Be careful how you fill your time. Be careful about the thoughts you think, the books you read, the programs your watch.
Bad thoughts are like cheap gas – if you put cheap gas in your car, your car won’t perform up to it’s full potential.
I totally get what he is saying – I think about the time I spend on worthless things, things that won’t matter two instants when this life is over, things I will regret having wasted any energy on.
Think about how we get so obsessed with small insults, unintended slights, even intentional wrongs done to us by others. Think about how we worry about money, about our possessions, about possessions we would like to have, how we envy others or try to find ways to make them envy us.
Think how little they matter in the long run, and yet we obsess, we give these people, things and events power over us by thinking about them too much, when we should be moving on, doing what we were created to be doing, living up to our best selves, the selves our creator had in mind when he fashioned us into being.
I want the high octane fuel in my machine, but somehow, the low octane creeps in, and I keep having to flush it out.
And another thought creeps in – this preacher has never lived in Kuwait or Doha, where all gas is CHEAP! In Germany, I paid almost $5 a gallon for gas, so every time I fill my tank here, I smile.
But what is the quality of the gas we get in Kuwait? What am I putting in my car? I don’t even know!
And would it make a difference if I did know? If the gas we are putting in our car isn’t good quality, is there anyplace we would go to put in a better quality of gas – isn’t all gas in Kuwait from the same source?
Random musings . . . .
Prosper the work of our Hands!
In todays readings, Psalm 90, verse 17 says:
17Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us,
and prosper for us the work of our hands—
O prosper the work of our hands!
So this is my prayer – for myself, for my friends, for my readers. Today, may God prosper the work of our hands!
Halal Neighborhood Market
I have never seen this on a truck before. JD’s market is in an area near the local college, near the hub of the bus system, and near a lot of stores people can walk to. It is a neighborhood rich in immigrants, rich in opportunities for work, rich in transportation options – and it just tickles me to see a truck advertising “halal meat” on it.
You hear complaints in Kuwait and Qatar, and most of the Gulf countries, about the Americanization of the world – the supersize-me fast food outlets, the same western stores in every mall, the spread of western – and particularly American – culture.
Look closely. It’s not a one-way street. We are all influencing one another, more than we know.
U.S. Taxes, a Poem
None of the following is original. Many thanks to a dear friend who forwards me these gems from time to time. I have never seen this one before:
At first I thought this was funny…then I realized
the awful truth of it.
Be sure to read all the way to the end!
Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he’s fed.
Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.
Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.
Tax his ties,
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.
Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.
Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries, then
Tax his tears.
Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his ass.
Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won’t be done
Till he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers,
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He’s good and sore.
Then tax his coffin ,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he’s laid.
Put these words
Upon his tomb,
” Taxes drove me to my doom…”
When he’s gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.
Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Taxes
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Sales Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Service Fee Tax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge Tax
Telephone Recurring and Non-recurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax
STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY?
Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago,
And our nation was the most prosperous in the world.
We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest
middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to
raise the kids.
What the hell happened? Can you spell “politicians!”
And I still have to “press 1”
For English.
I hope this goes around THE USA at least 100 times
This last year, they changed the way they charge taxes to ex-pats. It has made a HUGE difference in the amounts we owe every year. We now owe more in taxes than we made in the early years of our marriage! Aaarrgh!
If we believe our taxes are truly working for the greater good, we don’t mind so much. Faced with the crumbling infrastructure in our country, we shouldn’t see things like the failure of the levees in Louisiana, the collapse of the bridge in Minnesota, the degradation of our clean water programs in many states as our infrastructure ages. We should, for the taxes we pay, have a world class medical program available for all citizens, but especially the oldest and the youngest, the most vulnerable citizens.
Those who talk the most about bringing God back into our politics are often the ones who complain the most about money wasted on immigrant programs, public health and safety programs, tax monies collected for schools, for rehabilitation programs. Jesus would weep in frustration.
Flash for Sparkle: Atlanta 2
More from the Atlanta airport – just look at the texture in these statues!
This one is about the sea:
This one is my favorite. I wish you could stand closely with me and see the texture carefully incised in this piece:
Again, thank you Atlanta, you made my day.
Flash for Sparkle: Atlanta 1
My sister, Sparkle Plenty has a blog on which she writes about only GOOD things, the tiny light that defies the darkness. As I was enduring my trip back this time, I thought of her when I got to Atlanta.
In fact, I was so impressed with this flash of light that I stopped, unloaded my camera from the carryon, and juggling my carry-on, my venti and my camera, walked the kilometer or so that this exhibit was staged between the A concourse and B concourse in Atlanta.
I am so glad I did. It totally lifted my mood, and it felt like a gift from the city of Atlanta. These are all statues by Zimbabwean artists – yes, plonked down as a public art project in the middle of the Atlanta airport. They must have paid a fortune to ship these statues, to create the huge posters on the walls showing crafts and scenes from Zimbabwe, poor Zimbabwe, in it’s steady downward spiral, these artists pull miracles out of the hat.
This was one of the wall posters, featuring Zimbabwean hand woven baskets:
Bravo to all cities that spend a little so that we can be lifted out of our everyday doings and taken to another world of texture, ideas and line. Bravo, Atlanta!
Loaves and Fishes
Just before I left Kuwait, I read an editorial on the front page of the Arab Times; the Reverend Andrew Thompson suggesting we organize something in Kuwait which will make use of almost-spoiled food from the groceries, unused food from restaurants, newly expired foods, etc. to be gathered by volunteers and distributed into communities of the hungry and needy in Kuwait.
Especially with Ramadan coming, the season of feasting with family and generousity towards others, this is a wonderful time to be organizing this kind of effort.
In the U.S., many groups do this, usually associated with churches. In Seattle, we have something called Second Harvest. This morning, very early, as I was leaving the grocery store, I saw this truck collecting food at the back door.
Probably the Reverend Thompson will begin with people doing this out of their own cars, but if you have any pull . . . oops, that dreaded word, wasta . . . with a local van dealer, maybe Kuwait could have it’s own food distribution program.
Loaves and Fishes refers to a miracle where Jesus blessed a basket with just a small amount of bread and fish, but when passed, the bread and fish fed over 5,000 people. It evokes the generousity of the human spirit, and celebrates the incredible goodness of sharing.
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