Friday, September 21, 2007

Thursday Thirteen (on Friday)

Thirteen things I need to do today:

1. Finish the Laundry - Only 4 loads left!

2. Get part to fix oven - Broken since May, :-P

3. Take kids to school - Three already there.

4. The dishes - never ending

5. Get dressed - my clothes are in the dryer.

6. Eat healthy food - Low fat, high fiber, my motto.

7. Vacuum - J is having a friend come over so I need to vacuum.

8. Make the bed - no one in my house made their bed this morning so all the beds need to be made.

9. Buy two new tires for the suburban and have it aligned. We bought new tires about two years ago and the back ones are in great shape but the alignment is way off in the front end so we need new tires in the front.

10. Shop at some garage sales - our neighborhood garage sale is tomorrow so lots of people sale today. I like to get first pick.

11. Work on picking out colors to paint the living room - maybe I will pick up some paint chips today.

12. Get things packed and ready for the carnival at church tonight. Tons of fun!!

13. Borrow a Weed eater so I can weed eat the nice lady down the street's lawn.

Here's wishing all is well with you and yours.


wild murdocks said...

What a busy lady! It's never ending--the laundry the odd jobs the crazy kid fun! Good Luck! I'm doing some of the same things today!

Holly said...

And I thought my day was busy! i canned some tomatoes, but that's about it. My kids are off school today and I think J is still in his pajamas. It's 1:07 pm and he even has a friend over to play...

You need to do a follow-up post so we know what you did manage to do! LOL.

The Burr Bunch said...

Oh Inga- you do too much!! Only 4 loads left- that made me laugh! I complain about my laundry. But I've slowly come to the conclusion that it really is never done. Ever. Oh well. I hope the carnival went well!

The Burr Bunch said...

Hey Inga, I can't find your e-mail address, but I wanted to send this to you. I read it on another woman's blog and I immediatly thought of you. It's kind of long, so I hope you can get it all. This is just what you are!! You're amazing!

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 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 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 forthree 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.

Misty said...

Girl, where did you go? Best wishes that things are just fine in your household!