Invisible

I’m invisible, they seem to tell me. Just keep going, working in the background tirelessly. Sweep up after them, stay up late cleaning up the fallout area of their day’s activities. Think, think, never stop thinking about what’s coming next- what will they need, how will they get it, what do you need to do before then.

Listen. Listen to the complaints or protests about what you’ve prepared. Receive the constant barrage of requests, negotiations, over the simplest matters. Respond to the cries for assistance with tasks that were mastered long ago, despite already being half-drowned by your own waiting tasks.

Only since becoming a mother have I ever felt this way. It’s a funny thing- the most wonderful thing in my life is also the thing that can make me feel the worst, if I don’t watch my mindset. What dangerous things, our thoughts. Powerful things.

I used to feel -and complain about- feeling invisible. “I do all of this work all of the time and nobody ever notices.” Does that sound familiar? For anyone who is the primary caretaker of the home and the people in it, I imagine it does. Only since becoming even more embedded into this role- mother, caretaker, homemaker – have I started to realize what I really am.

A house can be either a place of mere shelter or an inviting refuge filled with comforts and a sense of safety, belonging, and love. I, as a mother, can either view myself as a servant operating in the background, or as the source of peace for those who call our house their home.  Picture a brand new home, empty and bare. Once occupied, items are placed carefully throughout to lend a sense of charm, comfort, serenity, and creativity. Over time, the home’s occupants may not notice each individual item as they go about their daily life. The feelings, however, are woven into their soul as intricately as a tapestry on a wall.

Yes, I am often sweeping up messes. Nearly every ounce of my energy is used by the time darkness falls, but I now realize that I hold a unique and special power. I am far from invisible. My influence is evident in every part of our home and life. When my husband wakes and appreciates the smell of something cooking, that is me. When my sons, tears falling and knees scraped, stumble to me with confidence they will be wrapped in a hug, that is me. My daughters play fearlessly, never doubting their safety, and that is me.

Along with the mundane, monotonous threads of our daily life, I can weave magic, joy, passion, and confidence. Not only in the lives of my family but in my own. I have chosen which role to play in my family in this season, but the role is mine to play. I will make it my own, and I will revel in it.