I was very much a child of the nineties.
I sported a side pony. Ate dunkeroos. Danced the Macarena. Enjoyed non-Pixar Disney movies, and crushed HARD on Aaron Carter.
But I was also a “Christian” nineties kid: I went to a faith based sleep away camp every summer where comedian Brian Regan was right up there with Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. I knew all the Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith songs. Had Precious Moments figurines. And, like most 90’s Christian girls: I read Captivating. Twice, actually.
And let me just say: that is a great book. I would, and do, recommend it to everyone. Heck, I even lead a bible study on it in college.
But, if you’re unfamiliar with that book, the main take away is that, as women, we are precious, delighted-in, daughters of the King. Princesses.
And as this book has been meaningful in my life, it made the cut of things I brought with me to NYC. It’s currently on my bookshelf in my apartment, which is saying a lot, knowing the premium there is for space here.
But I have to be totally honest about something.
I never really bought into the whole “princess thing.”
Not that I didn’t believe that I am a daughter of God, but I just never truly believed that I was princess material.
Being a product of the nineties, princesses were a big deal. Belle. Ariel. Jasmine. Cinderella. Sleeping Beauty. Snow White. To have “princess status” meant something.
Not only were you aesthetically flawless with a waist proportionally smaller than the width of your neck…
…but you also had a spotless record. You were unblemished, in every sense of the word.
So hearing that I was God’s princess…not only did it make my eyes roll at the cheesiness a little bit, but it also gave me a pang of disappointment in my spirit.
Because I was not princess material.
I had things in my past that disqualified me from a princessed existence.
And as I got older, honestly, I would think about the things that I went through, and think to myself – Clearly, God doesn’t think I’m a princess either, seeing what He allowed to happen in my life.
When I think about a princess, I think about an untouched, porcelain doll-like girl, who gets the world handed to her on a
silver rose gold platter. There is no trouble. No friction. No obstacles. Just a luxurious and privileged existence.
And come on, who can say they know what that’s like?
As we’ve seen recently, even Taylor Swift has to deal with unpleasantries every now and then.
That’s not real life. As they say, $h!* happens and life gets messy, to say the least.
And so, hearing that I’m a princess, it would almost make me angry. It’d make me think, That’s just not true! I’ve had to fight to become who I am. It wasn’t handed to me. The person I’ve become is the result of a lot of literal blood, sweat, and tears. And grace.
Being called a princess – that felt cheap. Patronizing. Fake. Disingenuous.
If I were anything, it would be a warrior princess.
A feminine fortress. A female fighter. A girlie gladiator. (lol who says that?!)
God equipped me with the grace to get through those times in my life. Those non-princess moments.
And He delighted in my perseverance.
That’s what I’ve come to peace with from that book. That’s how I’ve had to reframe it in my mind. Not that I’m some fragile princess, sitting on a plush, velvet pillow, but that I am delighted in. All of me. All of my past. All of my short comings. All of my seasons of trial and error. He delights in me because He so loves me.
And you know what that also does? It takes the pressure off. It gives me freedom to embrace the realness of who I am, who I was, and who I’m becoming.
I don’t have to be princess material. I don’t have to have a past that could be delightfully depicted as a Disney movie.
I just have to be me. A girl who loves God, and who is loved by God, despite my fears and failures.