Shining Moments

It's one of those Saturday mornings where you open your eyes and take in the wonderful reality of not having to get up as soon as possible and head off to work.  I adjust the covers up to my neck to ward off the chill and staring at the ceiling, gently tap my husband who is still drooling on the pillow next to me.
"Huh?" he asked, then stretched widely and gave me a "what's up?" look through squinted eyes.
For some reason I had awoke thinking back to my early childhood, and a particular school memory.  I then proceeded to relate the following event:

I was in Mr. Fleming's Fifth Grade class.  We were having rehearsals for a play several days now, and although I wasn't a lead part, it was heaven for me to get out of the classroom and watch my peers bring the story to life on the creaky wooden floor of our school auditorium. I was happy just to be one of the extras.

This day was different.  Apparently one of the leading ladies was ill which made the cast one princess short.  I highly doubt I volunteered, but somehow found myself in the bathroom dressing in the most beautiful gown I could imagine my ten year-old self could ever don.  Some older sister had donated previous prom dresses for the play and yes, Mary Jo, was going to wear one---and on stage!!!  As I floated onstage for the final scene, another princess--her gown falling down below her shoulder exposing her cotton undershirt--waved me over to the line of waiting royalty.  I lifted my dragging skirt and promptly took my place.

You see, the prince, none other than the tallest boy in the Fifth Grade, Gary Simmons, was about to enter and choose his bride.  So they could, of course,  live happily ever after.  Everyone tilted their chins up as instructed by the teacher, some of the girls batting their eyes, others smacking their lips from the foreign substance on their mouth worn to make them feel 'grown up'.

"Here he comes!" someone whispered.  I was smoothing the wrinkles on the front of my gown, and looked up expecting to see the Prince taking the hand of the chosen maiden, kisses her and everyone cheers.
I started to raise my hands to join the applause...when standing directly in front of me is Gary Simmons.  I mean The Prince.

He takes my hand and leads me out to center stage, placing a kiss on my obviously blushing cheek.  He then raises my arm and we both bow just as the script called for, the crowd cheering wildly.  Well, everyone except the girl who was supposed to be chosen and has now just become an extra in the line of princesses behind us.  Whispers of  "Why did he pick her?"  and "That is not in the script, it wasn't written like that!"  are barely heard above my pounding heartbeat.

All that mattered at that moment was the fact that I was the one chosen.  He picked me.  I found out at a later recess that Gary had a crush on me all year and could never bring himself to tell me.  This was his chance and when the opportunity was obviously timely and beneficial for all concerned, why not?!  I know I was pleased....wearing a gown AND being kissed in front of all your friends by Gary Simmons?  Wow!

My husband gave me a look that said I had wasted good sleep-in time telling him that story.  I turned toward the wall, smiling to myself as I once again recalled the simple joy of an innocent first kiss.  Even more satisfying was the surprise of discovering someone cared for me enough to risk letting the world know about it!   Right there on the Centralia Elementary School auditorium stage!

All morning I re-ran that memory  in my head, and then it finally hit me after my third cup of coffee.

For most of my life I have felt invisible.  Being a middle child, it comes with the territory naturally, and we mid-kids grow up knowing how to be content without the need to be boss or have the spotlight.  As a matter of fact, we often prefer being unnoticed as it can allow us to fail without fanfare or judgement from our family or friends.  We can joke about our blunders, covering our pain and disappointment with humor. Inevitably, there comes a day the jokes are not funny enough anymore.  Like a huge rock shattering a picture window, the cries of a broken heart are louder, and suddenly "invisible" is the last thing you want.

You want to be heard!  You need to know someone is hearing your cries, that what you are suffering through matters!  Ok, so family doesn't get it. They tell you and each other how strong you are and that your sense of humor and tenacity will get you through it.   Your best friend starts to back away emotionally and even stops calling because she doesn't know what to say.  So like so many times before, you wipe your snotty, tear stained face, take a deep breath and get back to doing life. 

And in the late night hours when no one is aware, you whisper a wishful prayer...."Lord, You saw what happened to me, right?  I'm not invisible to You....am I ?"   Then you fall asleep, not completely convinced He was listening, but feeling relieved just being able to put your heart into words, as lame as they seemed. 

Today God gave me, the princess in the wrinkled gown, the invisible mid-kid, a wonderful gift.  He showed me His incredible joy and personal adoration for His daughter, Mary Jo. 

As I re-ran that precious memory in my mind again, I began to see how my Lord longs to be the Prince of my story.  The One who takes my hand and brings me to center stage with Him, placing a kiss of acceptance and approval on my cheek.  The Love that presents me as royalty to the world, no longer just one of many princesses,  waiting in a long line.

Oh, not at all.  This morning Jesus, the Prince of Peace, chose me.