Wife, Mom and Friend

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Savannah's First School Project

This is the process we, as a family, went through to help Savannah Grace with her first school project. As we made the project we had to document it with pictures and put together a book that told and showed what all we did. The shadowbox is suppossed to be her classroom, the 2 tall paper dolls are her teachers, Mrs. Legare and Mrs. Riddle and the 3 short paper dolls are SG, Nathan and Ayoola (2 other students in her class). The point of the project was for SG to be able to use the shadowbox and paper dolls to show us what she does in her class each day. One of the pictures towards the bottom shows the front of her book that we did as a part of the project. Hope you enjoy the process through pictures.

Flowers in the Backyard

Just thought I's share some blooms in our backyard.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Week One Down

So Savannah Grace has completed her first full week of school and boy was it full of "firsts":

*First school project completed and taken in for show and tell
*First school picture taken
*First chapel service attended
*First fundraiser underway (want to buy something?)
*First time she had a bug taken off of her frog and had to sit in "time out"
*First time she didn't get to play during recess because she was talking in line (imagine that!)

All in all the week was great and I really couldn't ask for things to have gone better. Each day she came home with a smile on her face and a sticker on her calendar. (Each day you have a "good day" you get a sticker on your calendar) And at the end of the week she got 3 lollipops from the treasure chest! Phillip and I are SO proud of her! We love you Savannah Grace!

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Savannah's First Day of School

God is SO good! I couldn't have asked for a better first day of school for Savannah Grace! She had a great morning and was chomping at the bit to get into her class. There were no tears, from her or me, and we quickly turned and left while she was distracted reading a book. I was so nervous for her and her teachers all morning and by 11:15 I was chomping at the bit to see how her day was. As her class came into the gym for parent pick-up I expected her to dart over to us. However, she stayed right in line with her class. She looked great, there were no tears, she didn't look sad or mad she looked like she had a good time. Her teacher said she had a good day and she's excited about going back tomorrow! Thank you to everyone out there that has been lifting us, and this transition, up in prayer, keep them coming.

*Side note: Savannah's teacher has been teaching 4K for 14 years now! That was a huge comfort for me to know. Her name is Mrs. Legare.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

To All You Moms Out There...

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. 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 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 hair 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 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.

Great Job, MOM!