Step Sixty-Nine: A Princess Worth Waiting For

Dear Readers,

There is a line at the end of Tangled that I haven't been able to get out of my head. Rapunzel has finally returned home and the story has arrived at it's happy ending. Eugene (Flynn) is narrating the story. He says "At last Rapunzel was home and she finally had a real family. She was a princess worth waiting for, beloved by all, she lead her kingdom with all the grace and wisdom as her parents did before her." There is something in this statement that touches my heart in a way that no "and they lived happily ever after" ever could.

I have a somewhat silly girly confession to make. I desperately want to be a princess. A princess worth waiting for. It's not that I want a kingdom to rule or a prince to marry. In fact those things couldn't matter less. Even the whole castle, family, happy ending thing – though it sounds nice – are just small benefits. No, I want to be a princess because princesses are inherently valuable people. Even the line "she was a princess worth waiting for" implies that she was a princess oozing significance and value. You don't wait for someone you perceive to be of zero worth. You wait for someone of precious value, someone irreplaceable. You wait for for the character who, without, the story would be over.

In Tangled, you don't wait for the second guard on the left. You wait for Rapunzel. Without the guard, another guard will step into place, the story will go on and no one would even realize he was gone (I'm not saying this is right, I'm a fan of noticing the invisible but that's another blog). But who could replace Rapunzel. No one. She is a princess. A one-of-a-kind-story-changing princess.

Without Rapunzel - the King and Queen have no offspring, Gotham continues singing to a flower and hiding it selfishly away, the kingdom has nothing and no one to mourn or celebrate, Flynn stays Flynn a robber and conn until he is hung, Maximus will never be anything more than a horse, and Pascual loses a best friend. Without Rapunzel - the thugs in the snuggly duckling will never remember their dreams, so hooky will never be a concert pianist and goiter will never find love. Without Rapunzel everyone's life in the story, from Hayfever Guard (he wouldn't have been guarding a crown if there was no princess for the crown) to Flynn/Eugene, is going to be radically different. She is of that much worth.

That's the heart of my girly confession. I want to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am of worth. That my life has changed the lives of those around me. I want to be of worth, of consequence. That is my heart's cry. I want to know that who I am, just as I am, is completely irreplaceable. When I die and go before the Lord, my prayer would be that He says I am "a princess worth waiting for."

The sad truth is, I, like many other young women, don't believe I am. I try so hard to prove my value, prove my worth. Graduate high school - then you'll be of value. Ace college - then you'll be of value. Become a social worker - then you'll be of value. Change the entire social care system - then you'll be of value. Run your own orphanage - then you'll be of value. I continually chase after this idea of worth in actions. And then, when I'm running around in circles chasing an ever escalating false idea of worth, God throws an idea like this in my path. He forces me to stop chasing my own tail by creating a longing in my heart. He asks me to come and sit before Him and ask Him what He sees.

It is basking in His light that he reminds me that Rapunzel just was a princess. She wasn't of worth because her hair could glow. She was significant simply because she was herself. Then He whispers "you are my princess. You are of worth. You are of consequence. You are irreplaceable. You are all that and more because you are you."

So here is a challenge for young women – the next time you pass by the mirror, look at yourself. Remind yourself that you are a princess. You are even a princess worth waiting for because you are you. And then take a moment to celebrate being you. Take a moment to enjoy who you are. Let's build a habit of building up.

Step Sixty-Eight: The Beauty of Anonymity

Dear Readers,

One of the benefits of being a California girl is that I get to spend some of my summer at the beach. Soft warm sand, endless blue ocean, and a bright sky open to possibility. If you haven't ever stood at the edge of the ocean, your toes dipping into the chilly water, realizing how truly small you are, then you need to. There is a certain beauty in feeling small.

The truth is I get so caught up in myself. In my thoughts, my feelings, my problems. It is easy to lose myself in the details of my life. When I stand at the edge of the ocean, when I know that the waves crashing in around me have traveled the planet, when I let myself be small, I get the opportunity to worship the Lord in a unique way. I get to worship him from a place of anonymity. This isn't to say that we become forgotten or unknown to the Lord but rather to ourselves. We cease to lose ourselves in the fabric of our own lives but in the grand tapestry of creation. It is only at the top of a mountain, or standing at the edge of the sea that I see some glimmer of the "big picture."

Standing at ocean's edge, it's so much easier to keep perspective. To celebrate the beauty in being small, in not bearing the weight of the world or even the ocean. It is from this small shore-stuck perspective I get to see God. Not just Father God but God. A powerful, awe-inspiring God. A big God. A God capable of seeing me with my toes just barely caressing wet sand without losing sight of the coral reef flourishing below. A God capable of fitting into the deepest and darkest places of my heart and a God big enough to fill the darkest crevices of the ocean floor.

This is my challenge to you: let yourself feel small today. Not insignificant. If we mean more than sparrows, we also must mean more than starfish. Just feel small. Put yourself on your mental beach, take in the vastness of life and celebrate. Celebrate a big God. Be awe-inspired. Make your way out of the fabric of your life and join in with this tapestry of creation.

Step Sixty-Seven: Take A Minute

Dear Readers,

I will be spending a lot of time this summer with a three year old boy. Like most boys, he has an occasional temper tantrum. Not having truly worked with three year olds in 2+ years, my patience has significantly decreased. It may seem silly, but I forgot the reasoning capabilities of a 3 year old. So we have spent the last few days acclimating to the other's communication style. In this acclimation, I stumbled across this wonderful phrase. At a certain point in this boy's temper tantrum, he ceases to hear what is actually being said because he is "really upset." That is when I told him to take a minute to calm down. He stopped whining and calmed himself down, this opened the door to more communication (still limited, after all he is a three year old, but more). Sometimes we had to take several minutes, sometimes just knowing he was heard was enough. As I thought about this phrase this afternoon, I wonder if I take a minute for myself.

As an adult with reasoning capabilities relatively greater than that of an average three year old, I often find myself skipping the transition phase and jumping into fix it mode. I admit it, I am a fix-it kind of girl. The sink is broken, give me google, a screwdriver, and a little time. This fix-it mode comes in handy with sinks but it doesn't work with deep wounds.

I need to take a minute and process. I need to give it the validity and grief it deserves. The reality is there isn't always a fix. When I turn to my earthly father and feel the heart broken disappointment, my immediate response is to fill that hole. Find someone or something to make it feel better. I bounce around incapable of understanding what God is saying to me because I am "really upset". I have to admit that in reflection, my emotional self acts far more like a three year old than a nine-teen year old. I wonder if God is asking me to take a minute. To calm myself down. To stop blindly stumbling along, upset and hurting, and instead process.

I'm not under the illusion that taking a minute will make the wound better. Sometimes there is still plenty to be upset about, sometimes the tantrums don't end there. However, my prayer in life is that as I grow and mature I am constantly seeking to be able to communicate more with God. I'm not always going to like his answer, but maybe, after taking a minute, my dialogue with God would open even the slightest bit.

So the challenge is are you taking a minute? Should you be?