Happy Mothers Day

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 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.

-Author Unknown

love is a choice

Right after Destaye was diagnosed with bipolar disordar, I actually felt quite a bit of relief. We knew something had to be very wrong to get us to the place that we were. That place was Fairfax Hospital. It is a psychiatric hospital in Kirkland and Destaye was there for 17 days. We drove to Seattle to visit her 16 out of the 17 that she was there. We knew that despite the hardship of doing that, it was a neccesity for our bond with her. Everything we had done over the previous 6 months was to nurture a bond with a child who only wanted to push us away. Who could blame her? We knew so much of what she had gone through and decided that even if we had to pursue her for our entire lives, this child would never say that we walked out on her. After she got home from the hospital, that commitment was tested even further as we were asked multiple times if this was something we could handle. As I pondered the question I did what I inevitably do first when making life changing decisions; I think about my own abilities. I have a real understanding of mental illness, I am extremely determined once I make up my mind to do something, I love my children unconditionally, blah blah blah. Besides, Brian and I had decided that if we were going to adopt these children then they would be ours, period. Of course we wouldn't give her up! We read the books, talked to the counselor, and decided we would be going on with our life, however different the future now looked.



That's when God allowed me to be broken. It was bound to happen as I look back on things. My relationship with God has had a common theme. I say "I will follow you" and He gives me something that I am unable to do by myself. It always makes me think "duh" when I come to this realization, but why in the world would God take a person who claims to be willing to follow Him in whatever plans He has, and then give them something that they can handle themselves? The only outcome would be a person who would only think more highly of themselves instead of being in awe of what He can do through them. So as I attacked biploar disorder head on, it attacked me and completely kicked my butt. I realized after hospitalization, medication, months of therapy, this is a child that was going to ruin our lives. I got really angry. I started to blame God for leading me straight into a life of daily hell instead of the blessings I expected on the other end. As I look back at this time, I realize that I was going through the grieving process. Brian and I had prepared as much as possible to parent kids who had been through trauma. However, we thought we would be parenting FIVE and EIGHT year olds not nine and twelve year olds, one of which had bipolar disorder. We had to grieve the loss of those 4 years we thought we had with each of them. We also had to grieve the loss of a "normal" life-at least for the time being. It continues to be a journey, but not one without lessons. The biggest lesson has been if you tell God you will follow him wherever He leads, expect Him to take you to a place where you will have to let Him carry you.

a change in course

We have known something was wrong for a long time. She never moved past that transition time. We thought things would get better. They got worse. Now there is a new reality of what our lives are. For now there is anger, denial, grieving. I know sometime, hopefully soon, the sunshine in our lives will return. Right now it is so dark. I knew it would be hard. I did not expect bipolar.