By Nicole Johnson
It’s the greatest annual magic trick in the country. On May 14th the largest group of invisible women in America will suddenly appear out of nowhere: Mothers. They will show up at restaurants for lunch, stand up for applause in a church service, and receive cards of gratitude from those around them. Then Monday morning they will disappear again amidst piles of laundry, dishes, errands and careers.
And this is what they want. Most women I know don’t particularly care for Mother’s Day. They don’t want to step into the spotlight and take a bow—they wouldn’t be the mothers that they are if that is what they sought. They don’t want all the hype and attention. What they might want is a lunch they don’t have to cook, or some free time to browse in a bookstore without someone tugging on them, but not any sort of a huge big deal. They are not after the recognition or the applause, which is precisely why we should give it freely and abundantly.
Most of what mothers do, no one sees—or notices. No one pays attention to the clean clothes in the drawers or the closet, only the wadded up jersey that is dirty for the game because it was left behind the door. No one sees that the dog finally isn’t wetting on the rug anymore or cares who made the cookies that “appeared” on the counter. So no one says, “Good job,” or “Well done.” Usually no one says anything at all. The silence can be deafening, not to mention discouraging. But in the silence, a mother knows that her character is being formed and this invisibility is teaching her to love in ways that truly matter.
The world will never know of her, never see her picture, never applaud her accomplishments… or will they?
In the 1300’s there were master craftsman builders that showed up every day to work on cathedrals that their names would never be on and that would never bear their pictures. They built without recognition, but we now recognize their incredible contribution. What they gave to the world through their invisibility is nothing short of astounding and magnificent. It is they who can encourage a mother’s heart and teach us all how to make a difference by sacrificing our “need” to be seen for the greater glory of what we are building.
For Mother’s Day, the card industry gives us soft sentimental greetings or love poems, which fall woefully short of the genuine and deep praise that mothers deserve. No mother really needs to be praised for her love; that comes easily. It’s the hard sacrifices underneath love, the ones that are invisible, that should be exalted.
Here are a few things I think a mother’s day card should say…
Mom, thanks for using the same hands that might have made you a famous painter to spread the peanut butter on my sandwich. Your creation was as special to me as any work of art in The Louvre.
Mom, thanks for putting your fears second to my need for independence and letting me go into the men’s room while you paced nervously outside. I couldn’t see that nervousness at the time, but I know now how it looks when you’re trying not to let your fear get the best of you.
Mom, thank you for pretending that you never needed a new blouse or another pair of shoes—even though I’m sure you must have—so that I could have many things that I wanted at the time but never really needed.
As mothers, when we love others well, we will become invisible. But don’t lose heart—instead, gain strength as you realize that invisibility is love’s most beautiful costume given to its choicest servants. When we hold the long view of history, we can get through short periods of what feels like misery. On May 14th, the greatest gift we can give to mothers is to open our eyes and see them in all their lovely invisibility, and stand to our feet in admiration and applaud wildly before they disappear again.