These next few weeks, I will be busy helping my family prepare to move. So I decided it was time to share a story my aunt wrote several years ago and recently gave me permission to share with all of you! Lord willing, you will be blessed by this short story as I was.
A Princess By Choice—Part 1
by and copyright Lydia Vandezande
“Sariah, are you ready?”
Sariah jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. Of course she was ready—ready on the outside, anyway. In her heart she wondered whether she would ever again be truly ready to go with her father, the king, to the village.
She was surprised at her own reluctance as she took the king’s hand and walked with him down the hill and away from the castle and down the winding path to the village. She had always liked this path, through a lovely wood near the castle, through freshly ploughed fields farther on, especially at this time of the year when the earth was awakening once again to new life. She loved the path and had always enjoyed going with the king to the village at the path’s end.
The village itself offered nothing to be desired. Smelly, dirty, and disease-ridden, it was home to a lazy and ignorant people. They lived in poverty, in the worst conditions, but although they were constantly cursing their luck, no one ever seemed willing to put forth any effort toward making a change.
The king ruled the village as well as the surrounding countryside. He often visited the village, helping those who needed and wanted his help. He was always ready to help a man carry a heavy load, wash dishes for a tired mother, or tell a story to lonely child. Sariah often went with him and it was her delight to play with the children while the king talked with their parents or to help in some way with the work.
Lately, though, something had been bothering her. She decided to ask the king about it as they walked along.
“Father?” she began.
“Father, I’ve—I’ve been wanting to talk to you. There’s something I don’t understand.”
The king was always ready to discuss with his daughter any subject that she chose. Today was no exception. “What is it, daughter?” he asked.
She hesitated, unsure how to express her thoughts. Finally, she decided to just blurt it out. “I’m just wondering, Father,” she said, “why a princess has to be so different from everybody else.”
She expected him to be surprised by her question, but on the contrary, he didn’t seem surprised at all. He merely smiled and asked her a question in return. “Different from who, Sariah?”
“Different from all the people in all the villages. You know,” she answered impatiently.
“Yes, I do know,” he replied. “It strikes me every time we go to the village together. In fact, that’s why it delights me so much when you visit the village with me. I look at all the poverty and filth and at all the people who refuse the life I could give them, and then I look at you, my princess. There you are, beautiful and clean and pure. You are so precious to me, my daughter! And when I see you there in the village homes, I remember that all is not lost. Your presence reminds me that there are still those in the village who will allow me to rescue them. You fill me with hope.”
Sariah sighed a little. This was not exactly the answer she’d been hoping for. She knew enough of the story of her own rescue to know that she should be constantly grateful. But sometimes it’s hard to be grateful when you feel…different.
…and I’ll be back next week with part two! :)
I decided this year not to do a special “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year” post. But I do want to say—I pray that each and every one of you will understand the real meaning for why Jesus came. I’m saddened to think about how many people there are out there who sing all the Christmas carols but do not have Jesus in their hearts. I pray you won’t be one of those! :)
May God richly bless you in this coming year, and I hope you’ve had a wonderful time with your family this Christmas.
Keep looking up!,