I Am the Princess

From here

I am the princess.

I am the one who stays locked inside Vicki's heart day after day, walking the floor of my narrow prison, locked and barred far away from anyone who might wander near me and find that I exist.

I am dreams of holding hands on warm summer nights; I am dreams of goodnight kisses, long conversations and diamond rings. I am her dreams of marriage - her dreams of being desired, sought out, and valued. I am longings for building a home and family; I am visions of quiet mornings with her own child in her arms.

I never escape this prison.

Sometimes, when all the world is quiet, she lets me out for a little while, out onto my balcony far above the real world; and I watch. I look at the men and women holding hands, I see them rejoicing in the love that God has created in their hearts ... and I wonder. Will that ever be me? Will I ever break out of this place and experience it for myself?

They tell me that, on the outside, she is small and plain - they say she's aloof, shy, introverted; she wears plain clothes and tries to pass herself off as an awkward, undesirable geek. She never lets anyone too near this place where she keeps me. I've heard the voices of a few women who were told about me, in hushed whispers outside my prison door; but none of them have ever crossed my threshold. I've heard men's voices close by, but never seen them, never even caught a glimpse.

She can't afford to let the rest of the world see me. Almost no one knows about this soft, feminine place deep in her heart, where I live. She doesn't have time to admit to all the treasures she keeps locked up in here with me - her love of romance, moonlight, and poetry; her weary desire to lay her independence down and let her strong husband look after her for a while; her dreams of building a beautiful, healthful, God-honoring home with her own hands. I'm not compatible with her life, she says. She's busy with her exams and clubs and work. She doesn't have time for me, and she dares not let anyone know I exist.

And so I pace the tiny room of this silent prison, day after day - denied, forsaken, ignored.

Yet I know that, somewhere, there is a prince who is looking for me. Someday he'll break down these walls that she has set up all around me - all of her protests and avowals of single independence will do no good. In his own gentle, patient way, he'll work his way deeper and deeper inside this castle of her heart, until he reaches my door ... I'll hear his voice, and I'll know that he's the one sent to rescue me; and I will give him the key, the precious key I carry around my neck.

And then I'll throw open these doors and show him all of the wonderful things I've made and saved up here for our life together - I'll give him every drop of the love I've waited so long to give. It will be a fight for him to get here, but he'll come. He'll be strong and godly and everything I've ever waited and hoped for; and I will be as much of his everything as I can possibly be. Never again will I be locked up in this tower, but I can ride with him into his kingdom, finally free to live and rejoice and show the world how beautiful I am and how beautiful our love can be.

He is my prince, and I am his princess. I'll never give up hope.

Name That Movie!

Hey everyone! I was really inspired lately by the awesome period drama games that Miss Laurie puts together over at her blog, Old-Fashioned Charm; and I decided to give one a try using my specialty, the old black-and-whites!

Each correct guess is worth one point. The person with the most points at the end wins! Good luck!

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I apologize for the low quality of a couple of these - if there are any that you can't make out for quality reasons, let me know and I'll try again to find a better photo. Good luck, everyone!

Love,

Vicki

A Word of Encouragement

I actually broke down in public and wept when I came across this video - it might be a little silly, but having Mr. Rogers say he was proud of me was exactly what I needed. This is especially for those of you who loved him growing up, like I did!

I hope you're having a lovely weekend!!  :-D

Hugs,
Vicki

Fragile

Fragile. That's such a beautiful, delicate word. It sounds like a white porcelain figure, gently draped in a pale blue china gown, one whisper-thin hand outstretched to shield her pure, helpless face. It's a word that invites you to care for the fragile one, to guard her and protect her from anything that could shatter her.

Fragile. It certainly isn't a word that applies to plump college students with loud slappy sandals, corny jokes and enthusiastic giggles.

Or is it?

Sometimes, like now, I go through periods where fragile is the only word I can dredge up to describe my internal state. On the outside, I look fine. I'm round and healthy, moderately well-dressed, always with a positive can-do attitude (or a sympathetic complaint, if the situation calls for it). I get good grades, make honor lists, get lots of good work done, and try to make life better for everyone around me. I look like a bright-eyed, motivated girl.

But inside, I feel myself churning, never staying still or quiet for a moment, rolling and tossing with thoughts that shake and slam and batter me day and night. I wake up and fall asleep with my mind boiling - works and grace, faith and doubt, vision and contentment, purpose and uselessness, beauty and ugliness - things just mix together into a confusion of not knowing who I am, why I'm here, or where I'm going.

I need more of God. I need Him so much. During these long days of cramming my head full of (ultimately worthless) knowledge, I lose sight of Him in the dark waves of busyness and exhaustion that keep rising and breaking over my head every night. I get to the end of each day and cry out in the darkness - where is He? When did I become disconnected from Him? Where has my wicked heart taken me, this place where I can't find Him when I need Him so much?

Why do I stagger blindly through each day, trying to do my very best and knowing so bitterly that my best can never measure up to His holiness? Didn't I learn long ago that it is His grace that carries me, not my own? Why then do I keep going back to the works and trying to somehow make myself good enough to merit His favor, then collapsing exhausted at the end of each day with nothing but a broken trail of failures behind me?

This isn't how I want to be. I want to be strong, to shine brightly with a Christlike glow that warms and heals those around me - not to be the fragile one needing the warmth and healing. Somehow I've gotten off track, looking for strength in myself, in my own righteousness, which is a very shallow reserve indeed; and that reserve is completely drained. I'm not glowing much these days.

My Father, my God, I have gotten off the path somehow and I need Your help to get back - please show me how to rest in Your provision and grace, not to rely on my own feeble strength. Please give me the peace that I so desperately need!