Sweet Reminder of my Mamaw

I got the following email a few minutes ago from my Dad - and I wanted to share it here on my blog with our friends:

My grandfather Walker (who I never met) brought a lily home from a Jamaican mission trip in the late 30's.

 

My Mom diligently cared for the plant every since he brought it home.  However, it never bloomed.  As you know.....Mom left us 2 years ago......however, I decided to care for the lily and hopefully it would bloom some day.

 

Well.......the Lily has bloomed.....it is beautiful.....and smells great.  With tears in my eyes I said to Laura......it is so sad that Mom cannot see this.  Laura instantly said.....she is and she smiling down on us!

My Mamaw passed away in January 2009 and I think about her every single day.  I miss her so much and there are days then I would give anything for one more lunch at Chuy's together or one more Sunday morning singing the benediction at church together.  She was a fire cracker and was by and loved her children, grandchildren and her 10 great-grandchildren.  

I told a story about her this weekend that still makes me laugh every time I think about it.  When she knew that she was going to die, Mamaw started talking about her funeral and what she wanted with me and my parents.  She loved the Jessica LaGrone, one of the pastors at our church.  There were many reasons that she liked her so much, one being that she was a woman and Mamaw was a true believer in "woman's lib!"  

When we started talking about her service she was clear that she wanted it to be at The Forum, the assisted living community that she lived, so her friends could be there.  And she was even more clear that she wanted Jessica to officiate her service.  She even said, "Shelby, if she isn't available, just have them hold me at the funeral home until she can do it!" Fortunately Jessica was available so we didn't have to "hold her" and I can't imagine a more beautiful service for Mamaw than the one that Jessica planned.  

I emailed back my Dad after I wiped the tears out of my eyes today and said this, "Awwww.....I love this!  And I have NO DOUBT that Mamaw made sure that God sent just the right sun and rain to that lily so that it would bloom to remind us of her."  

The Cure for the Disease of my Own Self-centeredness

I was reminded of this great story this morning as I had a little prayer time. It's such a great story to apply to our lives - with our children, our spouses, our friends, our jobs........it just really hit home for me so I wanted to put it on the blog again (I posted it a couple of years ago too!)



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, Shelby. 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, no hour you've spent, no worry you've worried 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 himto 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 women, 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.