Sandie's Garden Analogy
Sandie reached out to me and communicated in a way I can identify with using a garden analogy. Isn't that sweet? And then she made a layout! I am holding onto her hope now. Isn't her tree beautiful!
Here's what Sandie had to say:
Garden Analogy: Beautiful flowers often take a long time to bloom, and often lots of hard work, but they are worth waiting for. (My Jacaranda tree is 7 years old before it blooms , but will live to about 90 years with glorious purple flowers every October-November).
Keep working at this- its too good to give up.
Remember, not everyone has the confidence to share work on-line- feeling inadequate is not just about housework. I like the way you welcome everyone, Hummie, and make such positive comments on layouts and how you so selflessly share all your techniques and tutorials. I'm sure your many passive members are gaining just as much from your work as I am, just by visiting, stealing peeks at work and gaining s from what you share. I know it is demoralising for your good work not to be recognised widely, but the nature of today's society is to take and rarely to give back. Just be confident that you are doing a superb job and we love you for that.
6 comments:
I totally understand the feeling of inadequacy. When I post something that gets no comments I suddenly feel like 'I am not good enough' For me I feel like Satan is always using this kind of thing to wear us down. I love the gardening reference and it is oh so true!
Hummie, so sorry I haven't left comments when you list one of your new video's - I'll be sure to in the future! You have taught me so much and I'll be signing up for your subscription in a few days. Loved the layout about the tree. It reminded me of the story of Invisible Women I had read (can't remember where I got it from), but it relates to your story, also.
A message for all of us INVISIBLE WOMEN
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.
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,
"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 as I looked
down at my out-of-style dress--it was the only thing
I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was
pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could
actually
smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty
pathetic.
Then 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:
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 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 w ill
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 son 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 going to 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.
Live Simply.
Love Generously.
Care Deeply.
Speak Kindly.
Leave the rest to God.
Just know - you are appreciated!
As soon as I read your post, I saw this:
http://scrapbookideas.wordpress.com/2008/02/25/looking-for-scrapbooking-tutorials/
See, you are appreciated! :)
I always check the site - because of disability I respond infrequently as I'm doing good to just look sometimes. I got so much inspiration today from the analogy and the comments. Thanks to all of you! Hummie you bring a good group of people together.
First - I am blushing at your kind words about my blog in your forum. Thank you - I will try to keep it interesting :)
I am sure more people appreciate your work than leave comments. It is just the way it is. Keep doing what you love and you will get your satisfaction from that - anything extra is icing on the cake (that is my two cents anyway)
Hummie, you are appreciated very much....Never feel inadequate, you give so much yet ask for so little.... Your tutorials teach us so much and your creations are beautiful.... Never let someone make you feel inadequate.... You know what you do and how much you help.....Is my blog great.. No.... But I enjoy showing what I've created and what I have to say...I created it so it is worthy of being looked at...Is it perfect... No, but then neither am I.... I have had my blog for almost a month and have have some comments but notice that over 400 have left nothing....I notice this when I blog myself....I try to leave a comment at every blog I visit but find sometimes I just don't know what to say... So, for every thing you do, you are appreciated...Never forget that....
Pattie's passion
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