When life chips your crown.

This story starts with an overly excited six-year-old princess, who took it upon herself to make sure everyone in her kingdom’s vicinity got to experience the joy of receiving a box of cookies (for a small fee obviously).

It was a cold winter day, when she and her sincere older sister – and her sister’s top-notch twin brother – began to travel around the village. They went from homestead to homestead asking the inhabitants if they would enjoy the pleasure of purchasing a box… or two… or ten.. of delectable sweet round little baked goods. The villagers beamed with pride at the prospect, and almost the entire village contributed to the cookie fund.

finland-318777_1920As the sun slipped lower into the sky and the three children started skipping their way home a light snow began to fall upon them. The first snowfall of the season. In their excitement – they decided to stop at one more villagers brick hut. The little princess began to climb the brick stairs of the brick hut, but she tripped and tumbled – chipping one of her grand pearly whites – her front right tooth.

She cried out in pain as one of the brick hut inhabitants came fourth. The villager seeing tears streaming down the princesses’ face rushed inside to get her a tissue. When she came back holding a tissue and ice covered in a cloth she handed them to the princess and sent the princess, her sister, and her sisters twin brother home (without buying even a single box of cookies – come on lady).

Fast forward eleven years. The princess – with a small cap on her tooth – went to highly respected member of the kingdom – a noble dentist. He looked at the tooth, with a cap on one side, and decided a princess needed more than a cap – she needed a crown. So he made a gleaming white crown and placed it – not on her head – but on her front right tooth.

Fast forward another five and a half years. The princess – who is actually me – a normal person and former girl scout – was eating plantain chips in a corner of her queen bed that was covered in a fort of pillows and clothes. As I sat in my bed with my purple bag of plantain chips and Netflix streaming on my tablet something happened. And in that moment I knew something was wrong.

The beautiful crown on my precious pearly white didn’t feel quite right (opps that rhymed). I knew instantly I needed to look in the mirror, but I also knew I didn’t want to see what had happened – so, like any normal former girl scout, I went ahead and finished the bag of plantain chips.

After pouring the last crumbling remnants into my mouth, I took a deep breath, climbed out if my pillow fortress, and looked in the mirror. I was right – my little crown was chipped.

So now the princess (me again) begins a new journey to have a new crown made to fit her tooth like the glass slipper that was tailored specifically for Cinderella’s foot.

And despite the stress of finding a new noble dentist, having a new crown foraged, and trying to not to look like a stereotypical hobo – I have learned a enchanting lesson. When life chips your tooth – and everything else seems to chip apart as well, you end up with a good story – that will make people laugh and bring them together. And bringing people together makes my heart happy.


Impatience and Anxiety

Have you ever had a moment when you are thinking about two seemingly unrelated concepts and all of a sudden they snap together in your head. You see a relationship that is almost so obvious that you feel a little ridiculous because you haven’t previously made the connection.

I had one of those moments recently. The monkey banged his cymbals together and the two-dimensional cartoon light bulb flickered above my head. And in that moment I knew – most of the anxiety I’ve recently faced was born out of impatience.

Patience is hard. No one really likes to wait. People don’t just pop their head into an over populated waiting room and think, “this is my jam.” We just aren’t waiting people. Except that we are.

woman-689896_1920If you love Jesus – you are a waiting person. You are waiting for a person, the son of God, to return. So I lay in wait.

But if I have dedicated my life to waiting on the King of Kings, why can’t I wait in a five-minute line at the grocery store? Why can’t I wait when figuring out future plans? Why can I can tell God all of my current thoughts and anxieties, but I can’t patiently wait for Him to respond?

So I’m learning patience. What that means, looks, and feels like. How to take a moment to breathe and persist through the uncertainty. How to be content in the assurance of a future that has been promised to me.

I’m learning why waiting is sometimes the best thing for me, and how to listen to God with a new-found patient expectation. How to be secure not knowing what tomorrow or two years from now will bring.

I have found when I’m content with being in-between – in the land of wait – I can be fully confident in the promises God has for me. And suddenly anxiety has less and less room to rule my mind. But more than that – patience sanctions peace to replace fear.