Wednesday, December 12, 2012


It's the night of all nights. You have looked forward to this night for months. You spend hours upon hours getting ready and you make sure you look absolutely perfect. You do look perfect. Your hair your clothes your shoes. Everything. Perfect. The prince is throwing a ball, and you are on the guest list. You are honored and seriously, everything is perfect.
You arrive at the ball. There is an orchestra playing beautiful music. There are sparkling chandeliers and beautiful lights. Before the ball, there is a dinner. You are ushered to your seat. The meal is delightful. Every morsel is savory and wonderful. The appetizer is great, and it gets you quite excited for the entree. The entree comes and you enjoy it. Everything is going smoothly. Everything is still perfect. You haven't seen the prince yet and begin to wonder when he is coming. You have worked so hard to make everything perfect and you just know he will be highly impressed. You feel as if nothing could ruin your night. And the symphonic music still playing in the background lets you know you are feeling correctly. It's beautiful and perfect. The music makes the night. It's now time for dessert. There are several options and you pick the one that is the most exquisite. It is delicious. Rich and sweet. Perfect. It makes you thirsty. Your glass is empty though, so you rise from the table to refill it. But--you don't see him. You don't see the waiter behind you with another tray of desserts. As you stand.. CLASH!!!
You give a small startled yelp.So does he. He trips as you bump into him and everything on the tray comes tumbling down. And it gets all over you on the way to the floor. Oh no!!! You're covered in an icky, gooey, sticky mess of syrups and gels and frostings. That's it. Everything, absolutely everything is ruined. You ask yourself how you could have been so stupid and how you could have possibly messed up in such a big way. You are angry. You haven't even seen the prince yet and now you can't. You are ashamed. You aren't perfect anymore. You're a sticky mess. In your head, the lights have turned out, the chandeliers have fallen, and most of all the music has stopped. Everything is over, because you have messed up. How will you dance with the prince now?! He'll probably show up, take one look at you and send you out the door. He won't be able to look at the mess. He'll yell at you, or worse, shake his head in disappointment. He's planned the ball for so long and you have messed up the image of perfection. You decide it's not worth the embarrassment. You don't need to be here anymore. You don't belong. You see the door, and you make a b- line for it. Your eyes are on the ground. If you don't look up, no one will make awkward eye contact as you leave and no one will give you the death glare because they can take one look at you and know what you've done.

"just get to the door. Walk across this huge room and get to the door. Then you can forget the whole thing. Just get to the door, before the prince sees you."

Then, it happens. In your lack of looking up, you bump into someone. "great. Now I HAVE to speak. I have to apologize. But then I will leave immediately." you look up to utter "I'm sorry" but you can't speak. Your jaw drops to the floor and your eyes open wider and you blush. You are looking into the face of none other than the prince himself.

If the music didn't stop before, you know it has stopped now. You panic. What will he say? What will he do? You just know he's going to take one look at your sticky mess and just walk away. But- as you look into his eyes, you don't see anger or disappointment or shock or embarrassment or anything else you expect. You see instead a softness. A gentleness. Compassion.

Suddenly, you realize that the music is still playing. And it's your song. It's the song you are supposed to dance to. It's so beautiful. The notes flood the air with harmony. But you still feel out of place. The prince offers you his hand. You lift yours from your side, but you stop. You freeze. Your hands are still sticky. Surely you can't touch the prince with the sticky! You HATE sticky. It is the worst texture in the world. Surely the prince will not touch you. He will change his mind. He will kick you out.
You feel embarrassed. You stammer out the words "I...I...I can't. I'm not clean."
He smiles. He walks you out of the ballroom and shows you another room. It's full of new, beautiful clothes. More perfect even then what you had on before. He lets you choose something and puts a new shrug over your shoulders. But then he looks at you and you know. You ask "are you sure?" He says nothing. He just does it. He takes everything a step further. He does something crazy. He wipes the sticky mess off of your old clothes- the syrups, the pieces of cake, the caramels, the frostings, everything- with his hands. and then does something even crazier. He puts it all on his own clothes. He then offers his hand to you again. You humbly  take it this time. You are overwhelmed. You don't understand this prince. He leads you back to the beautiful ballroom. Right to the center of the floor. He whispers "I am sure. Messy is ok with me." He begins to lead you in a dance, and your song plays on.

"... He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”


Joy said...

Weird!!! We were blogging at the exact same time! Awk.
This is beautiful. He's okay with sticky. In fact, He loves it.

Taylor said...

Indeed. This is beautiful indeed. (not my post. What God is doing.)