Can I Tell You a Story?
Can I tell you a story? It was supposed to be a happy story. It became an unhappy one.
I met him four years ago, that blazing star of happy light. He brought life, kindness, compassion and sweetness into my life in ways I hadn't expected and didn't know how to find. I fell quickly and stumbled over myself trying to not fall so hard. But it happened. It was supposed to be a happy story.
Everyone liked him then. He was attentive, kind, thoughtful, and treated me like a princess. In fact, he even called me that. "Goodnight princess" was my favorite thing to see pop on my phone screen. He, my prince and I was a princess for a time. Until other people had a chance to poison the well. My friends and family trusted what I saw and what they saw in my falling. They trusted this fellow to be the man he was presenting himself as - the one who was making me fall in love with him. His, however....made assessments, judgements of me based on -- who knows what - race, weight, age, height....goodness only knows. All I heard was "compatibility" when the idea of a "compatible" person is bull. We become compatible by humbly serving those around us. But...the story...it was happy for a season. The light shined from inside my eyes to my face and every inch of my person glowed. I loved him. He loved me too. Until someone poisoned the well.
It was a happy story. Until the poisoned well smashed my heart.
And God healed me. And it became a happy story again. Because miracles happen and second chances come. And we get the opportunity to love again. We started spinning the wheel again. I was a princess and he the prince who needed an arm to lean on. He said I steadied him, breathed life back into him when things turned. It was supposed to be a happy story.
It was more than happy. It was becoming a beautiful story of love, forgiveness, healing, and restoration. Redemption was happening. But...the well was poisoned. Opinions given to shade the view of me. Lies told to unhinge what happiness we had begun again. More than lies....choices were made. Selfishness pursued relentlessly.
Servanthood died. The princess was no longer a princess, but a shriveled up leftover no longer needed. Again and again....It was supposed to be a happy story. But time passed and people change.
The kindness gone. The tenderness hardened to sharp edges. Compassion replaced by spite and malice. The princess clung to hope - loving the harder edges believing they would soften again. She loved the darkness believing the Light would shine again out of there. But self overtook the unhappy prince, looking at every other girl because he had broken the princess he loved and wanted to find her again - just wasn't willing to look where she was.
She wasn't what he wanted anymore after he drank the poisoned well and poured it over her again and again. Marred by the drink, she waited and relentlessly loved, sacrificing everything to ensure he felt loved. He scoffed at it, mocked it, scorned it and hid it. It was supposed to be a happy story for the princess. It became an unhappy one.
The princess broke. Angered. Hurt. Lost. So lost. She reached around her to harm herself in every invisible way she could. And he mocked her. Such an unhappy end.
There isn't a princess left, just a girl covered in ashes.
It was supposed to be a happy story.
Maybe it still will be.
But....ashes for now.
I met him four years ago, that blazing star of happy light. He brought life, kindness, compassion and sweetness into my life in ways I hadn't expected and didn't know how to find. I fell quickly and stumbled over myself trying to not fall so hard. But it happened. It was supposed to be a happy story.
Everyone liked him then. He was attentive, kind, thoughtful, and treated me like a princess. In fact, he even called me that. "Goodnight princess" was my favorite thing to see pop on my phone screen. He, my prince and I was a princess for a time. Until other people had a chance to poison the well. My friends and family trusted what I saw and what they saw in my falling. They trusted this fellow to be the man he was presenting himself as - the one who was making me fall in love with him. His, however....made assessments, judgements of me based on -- who knows what - race, weight, age, height....goodness only knows. All I heard was "compatibility" when the idea of a "compatible" person is bull. We become compatible by humbly serving those around us. But...the story...it was happy for a season. The light shined from inside my eyes to my face and every inch of my person glowed. I loved him. He loved me too. Until someone poisoned the well.
It was a happy story. Until the poisoned well smashed my heart.
And God healed me. And it became a happy story again. Because miracles happen and second chances come. And we get the opportunity to love again. We started spinning the wheel again. I was a princess and he the prince who needed an arm to lean on. He said I steadied him, breathed life back into him when things turned. It was supposed to be a happy story.
It was more than happy. It was becoming a beautiful story of love, forgiveness, healing, and restoration. Redemption was happening. But...the well was poisoned. Opinions given to shade the view of me. Lies told to unhinge what happiness we had begun again. More than lies....choices were made. Selfishness pursued relentlessly.
Servanthood died. The princess was no longer a princess, but a shriveled up leftover no longer needed. Again and again....It was supposed to be a happy story. But time passed and people change.
The kindness gone. The tenderness hardened to sharp edges. Compassion replaced by spite and malice. The princess clung to hope - loving the harder edges believing they would soften again. She loved the darkness believing the Light would shine again out of there. But self overtook the unhappy prince, looking at every other girl because he had broken the princess he loved and wanted to find her again - just wasn't willing to look where she was.
She wasn't what he wanted anymore after he drank the poisoned well and poured it over her again and again. Marred by the drink, she waited and relentlessly loved, sacrificing everything to ensure he felt loved. He scoffed at it, mocked it, scorned it and hid it. It was supposed to be a happy story for the princess. It became an unhappy one.
The princess broke. Angered. Hurt. Lost. So lost. She reached around her to harm herself in every invisible way she could. And he mocked her. Such an unhappy end.
There isn't a princess left, just a girl covered in ashes.
It was supposed to be a happy story.
Maybe it still will be.
But....ashes for now.
Comments
Post a Comment