Princess? Yes I am, just not the way I thought.

I was raised a princess. I grew up knowing that I was loved for just being here, with few stated expectations other than being polite and doing my best at whatever I did. I didn’t really know what “my best” was, because there was never a concrete definition given. If I earned a C in a class, but had done my best, my folks were OK with that.

My parents were very focused on making their children’s lives better than theirs were, working hard to provide for our financial “needs.” Alas, I learned that fine clothes, travel, and in general having the best of nearly everything meant that I was loved. Sure, my mom was away from home more days of the month than she was here, and when she was home she was usually sleeping or dressed for bed (which meant no going to do whatever I might like), but what I lacked in quantity of time I gained in quality (and quantity) of stuff. I felt sorry for my friends whose parents didn’t provide the best of everything, because that meant they weren’t loved very much. I perceived those parents to be failures. I was a princess because my parents loved me enough to give me stuff. By the way, this was not the lesson my parents sent, it was the one that I learned.

Well, then I got married. I had graduated from a good private college, but it was the early 80’s and jobs were non-existent, so I didn’t find one. My husband was making good money at his job, but with only a single income, we were poor. When I was single and living with my parents, I could use my income to purchase gifts for others – to show that I loved them. Now I couldn’t even buy good quality make-up for myself! To my way of thinking, my husband didn’t really love me because he couldn’t give me even the most basic good stuff.

 

Then we reproduced. Now I was a poor parent that couldn't provide the best for my baby. The embarrassment and shame were horrible. I was doing everything so wrong!

Fortunately, some good Christian counseling helped me identify the error in my thinking, but the harsh reality was still devastating to me. I WASN’T A PRINCESS! Good stuff was not just going to drop in my lap because of who I was. I was so disillusioned.

I did find some solace when it became obvious that my contemporary, Princess Diana, wasn’t really having that great a life either.

My recognition that I was a non-royal empowered me to take ownership of my life and myself as a person: I was very intelligent, I had a degree, and honestly had abilities and skills that made me a valuable, worthwhile person over and above the fact that I existed. Learning about the real Susan was far more valuable than being a princess.

For the next twenty-five years I was very anti-princess. I even did a bit in my stand-up about how bad it was telling little girls they were princesses:

You know, I’m not in favor of the Princess thing that that big theme park pushes, where you can dish out a lot of money and turn your little darling into a princess for the day … I don’t think America needs more women thinking they are princesses.  Too, when that little girl gets into her mid-20’s and comes face to face with the reality that she’s not really a princess – that just hurts!

I can’t tell you how many times over the years I tried to set other parents straight about the damage caused by perpetuating the princess myth. I thought it was a public service, really.

Then, too soon, I found myself resting on a couch in the hospice room where my dad lay dying. We’d been told it would be that day, so I didn’t want to leave, but the MS demanded I rest. Of course I didn’t sleep. Instead, God send me the last lesson my dad would teach me.

As I laid there, it dawned on me that Dad always referred to me as HIS princess because my very existence made him feel like a KING. I had spent a lot of time resenting being raised in a delusion, but really I STILL hadn’t understood my dad’s reason for granting me such a noble moniker.

Around two o’clock in the morning a nurse came by and announced that apparently Dad wasn’t going to die that night after all, that it might be later in the morning. I decided I had to go home and get some rest because the next few days were going to be very demanding. It was so hard to leave that room. Before I did, I went over to my dad and whispered “Your princess has to go home, but I love you, and will see you when I get to Heaven.” My dad had been non-communicative for about four days, but when I said those words, he responded with three utterances, which I took to mean “I love you.” I was glad there was no traffic on the expressway; I was crying too hard to really see.

When I woke in my own bed later that morning, I called the hospice, bracing myself for the words I knew I’d hear – that dad was gone. Instead, I was told that he indeed had not passed away. We figured that he’d gotten wind that people were predicting his behavior and would have none of it! He quietly passed one week later, on the anniversary of his first daughter’s birth. She died before her first birthday. It was "so Dad" to get to Heaven as a surprise for his first princess’s birthday.

So I’m not a real-life princess; I know I have real gifts and talents to share. I’m my dad’s Princess, and I can’t wait to tell him how much that means to me. And I’m fortunate to be a child of the Risen King, as that means so much more than being mere earthly royalty.

 

Spend the rest of this month embracing who you really are, spending time thinking about all your good qualities. That will be the best gift you'll get this season.

 

 

Merry Christmas