As the Princess drifted off to sleep she remembered her childhood fantasies of a dream wedding.
She would enter the cathedral to the melody of a harp and flute. She would walk down the aisle in a gown of white organza with beading on the long train. Through her veil she could see her gallant knight waiting at the altar, dressed in the finest robes of blue to match his eyes, trimmed in gold to match his hair. He would smile as she came near.
Suddenly, Penelope woke and wiped the tears streaming down her face. The smile of the fine prince had become the grin of every frog that she had considered that day.
Which frog had she chosen to be the prince of her dreams in her dream?
(to be continued)
I had dreamed as so many little girls do - of fairy tale princess gowns, magnificent castle, the hunkly-handsome man, our vast kingdom trimmed with white picket fencing and everything set to a birdsong soundtrack. Never, ever, ever was the dastardly dragon of reality allowed to impose itself in my dreams.
Just like the princess in my story, how incredibly misguided I had been as a young woman. I chose my boyfriends and my husbands by "leaning on my own understanding". My understanding was completely out of whack and my choices proved to be disastrous.
Life is not a fairy tale and like Humpty Dumpty, I had a great fall. My life shattered into oh-so-many little pieces.
I relied on my God and King for the first time in my life and the results have been remarkable. The frog that he sent me to kiss with respect and nurture with love - truly is a prince with kingly attributes and a royal future. He truly is the man of my dreams.
Consider, as you think of frogs and princesses, princes and kings - could "the kiss" be metaphor for respect?