It begins...

A friend recently forwarded an email to me titled "The Invisible Mother," a short essay comparing the tireless and often thankless job of a mother to the builders of Europe's great cathedrals. Both give their whole lives for a work they will never see finished, both make sacrifices and expect no credit, and both are fueled in their passion by the faith that the eyes of God see every detail. The writer of the essay was inspired by the thought that our endless efforts in motherhood, invisible as they may seem, are worth it and can make an enriching life.

For many of us, the way we choose to hold our invisibility at bay is by creating something tangible. For me, my days often end with knitting - my love of fiber and the need to do something relaxing end up producing something I can hold and look at. Nobody will know how many times I swept under the high chair that day, or how many toys I picked up, or how many times I tried to coax a "please" or "more" or "sorry" out of my 5 year old. But a darling, handmade infant hat? That you can see.

I start new projects every day, and my 10 year old does the same. In this process of creating (and yes, often not finishing our projects!) we connect with each other and a bigger picture of ourselves in the process. My plan for this blog is to share the projects that excite me and bring some accessible proof of my existence in this invisible world of mothering!

So, this blog is dedicated to the mothers out there whose days are filled with the minutia of tasks that build our children and our families. I often tell people that I haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up. But for now, I am the builder of a great cathedral. With every shoelace tied, lunch packed, and forehead kissed, I build.

And I can hardly wait to create something new...

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Patriot Day

We all have a story about "where we were" on 9/11 10 years ago. I was in one of the tallest skyscrapers at the front of the Chicago skyline, and after the 2nd plane hit the towers in New York panic started to rise at my office. The el train was packed as the majority of downtown Chicago headed home. The train was eerily silent and sad. Nobody spoke. That night, Brad and I took a walk and noted the silence of the skies. Our apartment was a block off Lawrence Avenue, which runs directly east from O'Hare Airport. We would usually watch the planes in quantity overhead, lining up for their descent. That night, nothing but stars.

Today, our American Flag hangs where I can see if from our front window. I sit here on the computer watching it wave in the gentle wind, and reflect on the impact 9/11 had on me and on our country. I will never forget standing amidst thousands of fellow Chicagoan's singing "America the Beautiful" together in memorial of those that lost their lives. The sound of all those voices and the sight of our flag everywhere was powerful and awakened a patriotism I didn't realize I had. From sea to shining sea...

In the wake of such tragedy, life goes on. But we will never forget.

This afternoon, Rowan and I made her flower garland headband. She cut all the ribbons and decided exactly what the flower arrangement should look like.
I would have added some greenery in there, but she was adamant in having just the little blooms. I reminded her that I had never made something like this before and would do my best!  It turned out pretty dang cute, I must say. She LOVES it, and plans to wear it when we go out to dinner tonight. Awww.
Any minute now, Brad's parents will arrive for the evening, on their way home from other travels. We will have dinner together and go see our friend's band play. We will celebrate family and togetherness and patriotism tonight, and pray that our daughters can grow up in a world that is ever-striving for peace.

1 comment:

  1. A very moving piece of writing.

    Rowan looks adorable in her garland headband. You guys make a wonderful team!