URGEnt

Seldom do I go to movies, but when I do, with few exceptions, I almost unerringly end up at the lamest ones ever, most recently "Angels and Demons".  A few days prior, there was something so overwhelmingly banal Willow picked for me to take her to on her birthday--- "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past".  Eeewwww....  Guess if you can't do anything else, you write movie scripts.  So I would need no excuse whatsoever should I feel the urge in the middle of one of these insipid displays to go to the Ladies' Room.  And I would feel no pressure to return to my seat (theater) any time soon even though I had paid to see such drivel.  However, in case that's a problem for someone at sometime in some better movie, here's a miracle--- RunPee.com.  A place which will coach you as to the optimal time to take that necessary bathroom break during any movie so as not to miss the best parts therein.  Pretty much bathroom humor is overrated, I think.  This may be that one exception.  Here's to mind over bladder!

Just a Victim

MICHELANGELO'S DAVID GOES HOME TO ITALY Just got back from 2 amazing (and food filled) weeks in Illinois. Because of the habit we jumped into of constantly eating out, starting practically the minute I landed at O'Hare, I had to bid a sad farewell to my two favorite pair of jeans. They nobly suffered and died. Not that I can zip any of the surviving, less appealing ones up either anymore. So whose fault is that, anyway?? For awhile now I have been honing the art of blaming my mother for everything I don't like about myself. If I have inherited an incapacitating lack of a sense of direction, annoying penchant to worry, inability to balance a check book, bad feet, incompetence at telling jokes, yada, yada---consider the source. Ok, so I can't carry a tune, and the woman can sing and play Hawaiian Guitar. Nevertheless, Torrey and I have a lawsuit in the works and we're pinning everything on Grandma Mudgie---from bad hair days to packing on the pounds (oh, sorry Torrey, guess you're out of the loop then). Now I think it's a glaring sin of HERS that I can't wear jeans. And those cute dimples CANNOT save her now. How many days in a row did we eat out? And more than once a day?(Yeah, and try telling people you went to a Tapas Bar and see the reaction you get!)It was fun, fun, fun! Now fat, fat, fat! Guilty, guilty, guilty! Thanks a lot, Mom. AFTER A TWO YEAR VISIT TO THE UNITED STATES, MICHELANGELO'S FAMOUS MASTERPIECE IS RETURNING TO ITALY. Look, I'm not sure exactly what role DNA plays in all this. It may well be that classic "environment" argument holds some sway. I'm nothing if not fair. Possibly the battle of the bulge goes back aways.... Consider: In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives. Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled. And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14. So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast. God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof. God then created a light, fluffy white cake, named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good." Satan then created chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food." God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds. Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds. God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest. God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery. Then Satan created HMOs. (Couldn't find who to attribute this to, but he/she was certainly inspired)

Jewels in My Crown

There is no denying the joy, entertainment, and sheer delight grandchildren bring to one's life. Mine has been so enriched by my babies' babies. Take a bow---Madison, Kai, Sydney, Maya, Karsen, Braxton, Cove, and Brooklyn!(I just now noticed we're doing the same pattern as with my kids---2 of each letter. Looks like so far we need another "S" and another "C". Volunteers?)

I had the honor of spending Mother's Day with my Mom and sisters in my Illinois hometown, and then I had the privilege of having 3 of my kids and 5 of my grandkids fly in from Seattle, Salt Lake, and Vegas to surprise my Mom for Lunch---what a blast!

For The MOMS!

Two years ago on Mother's Day I was in Paris---Notre Dame, Saint Sulpice, Sacre Coeur, Sainte Chapelle(the DaVinci Code trail, as it were). Then on to great and even some very primitive Cathedrals in Bordeaux, Dordogne, Saint Jean du Lac, and so on. The obscure ones in ruins all the more appealing to me. The luminosity of the colors of the breathtaking stained glass windows, the elaborate wood carving inside, and stone carving outside. The intricacies, elegance and genius of the touches not even generally apparent, or even at all visible to man. Simply for the glory of God, and His Eye only. Indicative of such craftmanship, such artistry, such caring. And it all came together on another level a few months ago when I received this email:

THE INVISIBLE MOTHER......

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 that I'm on the phone, or cooking, or vacuuming 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, 'Can you
pick me up at 5:30?'

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, 4 life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my
work:

1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their
names.
2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see
finished.
3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4. 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 about. 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 daughter to tell the friend
she'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 her to want to come
home. And then, if there is anything more to say to her friend, to add,
'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot see 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.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO THE ULTIMATE INVISIBLE MOM---MINE!