Building a Cathedral

Tomorrow is my amazing sister's birthday. I’ve been wanting to write about her for a while - and this week seemed like a fitting time.

Last August I had just started painting (or, more accurately, started daring to tell people that I was holed up in my basement playing with paint.) I told her that I was going to paint her something for her birthday -but she would get it late.  I wanted her opinion about what quote to add to it. I wanted it to be something that would make her happy every time she saw it. - So she figured out a great quote and I got to work.  But, I already knew what I wanted to put on it.... It wouldn’t really make sense for it to be front and center on the painting, I didn’t want her to have to explain it to everyone,  but I KNEW it needed to be in there somewhere. Maybe even hidden, so you had to look to find it... Maybe she would be the only one who knew it was there... but I wanted her to read it everyday....

So fast forward to November, my birthday. My birthday is on Veterans day, so it’s kindof a doozy each year. She knows it’s always very bittersweet so that morning my sweet sister brought over a beautiful necklace with a bird on it wrapped up with a copy of this story.....

"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 t his? 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 everyday, 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 a s 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 child 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."

And at the bottom of the story she had written 

“God sees. and Brad sees.

And it was the most perfect gift.

I don't identify with every single line of the story, and Kalani and I probably have differences in exactly what we relate to about it. But I always love the reminder that "God sees" 

Every trial we have. Every tear we have cried. Every worry. Every fear.  Every single thing we have felt. I know my Savior sees this. And not only does He see, but He has the power to lift me up and carry me and heal the broken parts of me - and of all of us.  

When I began to read the story she had given me I started to cry - because THAT was the story that I had been thinking of when I started Kalani’s painting. And that phrase - 

with admiration for the greatness 

of what you are building when no one sees.

had always reminded me of my sweet, supermom, super everything sister.

It was the phrase that I had already started to sneak into her painting. 

See, this sweet sister of mine is an unusually amazing mother. She is actually an unusually amazing everything. She somehow manages to do everything and to do it well. I know that she works so hard at all she does, but  when someone notices something amazing she did she just shrugs it off and acts like everyone does that. 

She is wise beyond her years and I am so lucky I get her as a sister and  friend.  

I dropped this off to her on Mother's Day this year. 

(yes, it took me nine months...I'm not the fastest painter;)

Happy Birthday Kalani

(does it mean I’m a really bad sister if I don’t know how old you are??  - I would just go with 29...)

I love you. 

2013

New Year.

I've been looking back over 2013 and realizing a few things. 2013 was a big year for our little family. We had lots of changes. {most of which I was dreading}

I remember at this time last year being overwhelmed even thinking about everything that would happen this year. Ty would graduate and go away to college. She would probably have a mission call. We were going on a trip of a lifetime to Europe. My baby would start Kindergarten. Sophie would turn 8 and get baptized. All the changes that I could think of that would happen in our family seemed even larger because of the fact that Brad would not be there for them. And every one of them brought me to tears when I thought about it. They were all good, exciting things. But the thought of doing them without Brad seemed a bit - well, unbearable.

So here is the interesting thing.  Each big huge thing came. {and I remember feeling overwhelmed a bit at the time} but each thing was a good happy thing for our little family. They weren't horrible and they weren't sad.

And Brad was able to let me know with each big overwhelming change,
that he was right there with me.

That he was not missing it.

and that I was not alone.

And THAT changed each big thing into a new little miracle. And a new way for me to SEE the Lords hand in my life... and to see that we were not alone, but being LED along...

So I guess the main thing that I learned this year was that no matter what seemingly overwhelming thing is going on in our life…

instead of dreading it,

I will be on the lookout for those tender mercies that show me that my sweet husband is right here with us every step of the way.

Pretty Amazing Year. 

Five years

Today marks five years since Brad's death. That is crazy to me. Five years sounds like a long time. And it's weird because it seems like a lifetime ago and also just yesterday all at the same time.

I remember very vividly walking in my bed room to get Addie who was six months old at the time of Brad's death. Probably a day or so after. (those days are all kind of a blur,  they all run together)
I remember saying to myself - "my life is over." Just matter of fact. Not trying to be overly dramatic, but stating what was obvious.  Not only did I not want to be here without Brad, but I really didn't believe that I would be able to exist without him. I felt like half of me was literally missing and I didn't see how I could possible survive that way for long.

Now that I am looking back on the last five years instead of living it I've noticed a few things. It is interesting to see the progression.   All the different phases that you go through. I think I was in shock for about 2 years. Just attempting to function and not much else. I remember feeling like an actor in a movie. Pretending everything is fine because that was the only way I could function.  

I think in those five years I went through every phase multiple times. Feeling like I was finally getting a handle on this grief, only to be swallowed up by it the next day.  

Grief , I've found, is frustrating like that. Good one minute, total nut job the next.

I remember thinking, "I will never be happy again." Sure I would smile and laugh occasionally, but I would never really be happy. Not until I am with Brad again.   And that's not a very fun thought. Spending your life, just hoping time passes quickly so we could be together again... not much comfort in that for me. Not really a life, to be honest.

Well, one thing that has been a pleasant little surprise - is that I've been feeling happy lately.  It was honestly something I didn't expect.  And it's not really something I can explain. It's not that the pain of losing Brad is gone... or even bearable on hard days... And I still don't know that I will ever have a "fullness of Joy" without Brad physically by my side. But somehow, there is a calm, peaceful power that comes from being loved by my sweet husband. Somehow, knowing that he is there; and not just on the hard days or the special occasions, but Always.  That knowledge and what it means is finally sinking in. And it's changing me. Empowering me.  And I don't feel alone. Because I'm not alone.  And with that knowledge,  I can be happy here and now.

I am also learning that the powers of heaven are not bound by human logic. 

Elder Wirthlin gave a talk in the first General Conference after Brad’s death. In it he speaks about The principle of compensation: 

“That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude."

I had never heard of (or payed attention too) the principle of compensation. It hit me like a ton of bricks while listening to this talk - that it was true. That the things our family would miss because Brad was taken would be made up for. I initially thought that meant it would be made up for in heaven - when we were all together again... but I have seen over the years the blessings pouring out upon us.

 The  powers of heaven are not bound by human logic.  If you are in a situation where it doesn't make logical sense for you to EVER be happy, or even be ok. Where it doesn't make sense for you to be able to heal- 

That doesn't matter. 

Because the Lords power is not bound by what our human mind can comprehend. 

Many times I've felt the spirit whisper that everything will be ok. And many times I've felt my sweet husbands presence and he has said that it will be ok- and not just ok, but good . And that someday I will understand. And I used to argue - I'd say - well I don't see how that can ever really be true. I don't see how it will be ok for our kids to grow up without their wonderful daddy, and for my littlest girls to not even have an earthly memory of their father . I don't see how that can ever be ok- and how they won't get gipped.  and I don’t see how I will ever be ok - being here without you...

One of my biggest sadnesses was having my children grow up without the influence of their amazing father - but that is already being  compensated for. Somehow, miraculously, my little girls have memories of their daddy. They know him and have a relationship with him. All my girls recognize when he is near.  They are influenced by him and he teaches them. I know he protects us . Somehow Brad is able to provide for, comfort, teach and bless his family - from the other side of the veil.

I know we will all still continue to have things we miss out on by not having Brad physically here with us - and those things are difficult and heartbreaking at times... but I have seen a little glimpse of the way Heavenly father is miraculously compensating for this already -  and it teaches me to not despair about those sad things - but to have faith that the Lord will do what He says He can do.

 I don’t pretend to understand how it works , but I have complete faith that my girls will not be gipped out of having a daddy.  I may not see the interaction, but he influences them, protects them and helps them in many ways I can not. 

I know my Savior is there, and that I can call on him. I feel like he has been lifting me up and carrying me around and steadying me every day for the past five years. And the power you get from the atonement - it’s not just a nice idea. it’s not just a warm ,fuzzy, happy thought, that you think about . You have the ability to tap into a literal power that nothing in the universe is stronger than. Every person on this earth has the ability to use that gift - even if we don't understand how it happens.

And THAT gift is what makes us happy...