there is something about children and the way they see things that fascinates me so i have been playing with images of children lately in photoshop. here’s three of my efforts, i hope they speak to you of simple faith and innocence.
don't let the facts get in the way of your creativity
by all means seek wisdom but look at the world through the eyes of a child
our childhood is at an end when things cease to astonish us
my childhood while not an easy one was, when all is said and done, my childhood. i lived through it hoping for rescue from my abuse but never really believing it could come. then one day after many years i found a love that healed the hurting places and showed me i was in fact loved and missed by a loving heavenly dad who had originally created me to be his princess. even though for a while i was stolen away from him i found my way home and in the midst of the healing one day this story poured out of my heart. it was the first of many stories and poems during that healing period and opened a well of creativity that has never closed since. it is a story rich in symbolism and as you read you will no doubt get some of them. i didn’t deliberately put them there, this is how it flowed through my pen direct from my spirit and it has been edited as little as possible. “princess ponytail” is a story of hope, a story of courage and one of coming home. i pray you are moved by it and touched by love as you read.
PRINCESS PONYTAIL
Once upon a time there was a princess, Princess Ponytail. Of course that wasn’t her real name, but everyone called her that because she had the most beautiful hair. It was long, dark and very silky. So long she could almost sit on it. She was quite proud of her hair and loved to wear it in a ponytail. She wore it like that so often that people started to call her Princess Ponytail and that’s how she got her nick-name.
Princess Ponytail’s father was the king of a huge country. This, of course, meant that he had enemies as well as friends. After all, one can’t always make decisions that please everyone, even if you are known as the wisest king in the world.
His influence was far reaching and other kings often came to confer with him on matters of State. However he always had time for Princess Ponytail, even when she would interrupt in the middle of a meeting! No matter how busy he was he would stop and lift her up onto his knee and listen while she told him all the important things that had happened; well, important to her anyway.
One day as the princess sat in her father’s lap and told him about the beautiful bird she had just seen, one of the king’s visitors smiled slyly. This was just the thing he was looking for. He had long waited for just the right moment to get back at the king for humiliating him in front of his countrymen. Obviously the king loved his daughter so what better way to get at him than to kidnap the princess! So that’s what he set out to do.
He disguised himself as a seller of ribbons and toys and waited at the edge of the gardens where he knew Princess Ponytail loved to play.
“Hello, fair one,” he said, as he appeared suddenly beside her. “I have a gift for you – ribbons for your beautiful hair. Would you like to come with me and see what I have in my cart?”
Something about the man frightened Princess Ponytail and she drew back slightly. “Don’t be afraid, child, I won’t harm you. Come and see the beautiful ribbons I have for you. My cart is just over here.”
Princess Ponytail followed the man over to his cart where the man pulled out a handful of ribbons, red and purple and gold. As she reached out to take them he grabbed her wrist and put a hand over her mouth. She was terrified! She tried to scream, to call out for help, but no sound would come out.
“Scream and I’ll kill you! Do you understand?” he hissed in her ear.
Princess Ponytail nodded her head mutely. He tied her hands roughly together and stuffed a foul smelling rag in her mouth. He covered her with old clothes and blankets as he pushed her roughly onto the cart. She felt smothered. Hardly able to breathe the princess felt like she was going to be sick. After what seemed like forever she felt the cart stop and then she was pushed roughly into a small shack.
The man stood before her. “Do as I say or you’ll never see your precious father again!” He reached out and slid his fingers through her ponytail. “We’ll have to get rid of that hair. Anyone would recognise you straight away. By the time I’ve finished even your own father won’t recognise you.” He picked up a pair of scissors and, sneering, grabbed her hair in one hand and began to cut.
“It’s no use screaming. No-one can hear you,” he said. Satisfied with his work he continued. “There! No one will ever recognise you now; you look nothing like a princess.” He laughed cruelly as he tossed an old pair of boy’s trousers and a shirt at her. “Put these on and give me your clothes,” he commanded.
Forced to hand over her beautiful clothes she watched the man thrust them into the fire. She cried to see the garments burnt. She was overwhelmed with sorrow as everything she had ever known was stripped from her. As she crawled into a corner, the princess curled into a tight ball and rocked. Pain along with terror focused itself into a silent scream. It filled every part of her being. That scream would echo through her mind time and time again in the months and years ahead.
The King sent out riders to search the far corners of his Kingdom for his beloved daughter. As time went by with no word of her he was forced to admit that he might never see his daughter again. However in his heart he never gave up hope that somehow, somewhere, she was still alive.
Princess Ponytail slowly became more and more withdrawn as her captor destroyed her sense of identity and self esteem. She never knew when he would turn on her and beat her or belittle her with the words he used. Words that slowly over time began to shape how she saw herself and became to her an invisible prison that she could not seem to escape from. He refused to even use her name simply calling her girl. Her abuser was clever. He knew that to really destroy her he would have to use not just words but deeds. So he did.
He filled both her days and her nights with fear and abuse. She never knew what to expect next as one moment he was nice then the next incredibly cruel. Night after night she would lie in her bed and wonder whether she would wake up to see him standing in her doorway. She came to dread the night.
The princess felt like she was no longer a person just a thing. A thing to be used to satisfy the man’s warped sense of power as time and time again he abused her.
Years passed by and although Princess Ponytail longed for her father she became resigned to her captivity. Over time she thought less and less about him until he became a vague memory. Still, in her heart she hoped that one day she would find her way home.
One day when the man had left the shack to attend to other things the girl reached under her pillow and pulled out a knife she had managed to hide. Slowly and carefully, she worked the window of her cell loose enough to break the seal free. With a creak loud enough to frighten even the bravest heart the window fell open. Quickly she wriggled her way through the window, frightened that the man would return at any moment and find her.
Free at last the princess stumbled through the woods. She forced herself to walk for hours until she felt she could not take another step. In the distance she saw a house. Lying quietly in the tall grass, she waited to catch a glimpse of the owners. Suddenly there was a rustling in the grass nearby followed by excited barking.
“Shush dog! Quiet boy! Oh please don’t give me away,” she sobbed, but the dog took no notice. Looking up the girl saw the dog’s owner staring down at her in surprise.
“Down, dog! Quiet!” he commanded. “Well, what have we here? Where did you come from boy? What are you doing trespassing on my farm?”
“Please sir, I’m not a boy. I’m a girl and I’m Princess Ponytail.”
“Don’t be silly, child, of course you’re not! Anyone can see you’re a boy. Besides, Princess Ponytail is dead.”
“But…but…no… I’m not.”
“No buts boy, come along with me,” the farmer said, as he helped her to her feet.
So Princess Ponytail was taken to the farmer’s home. The farmer’s wife gave her clean clothes and food but they didn’t believe her story. Although the couple treated her kindly Princess Ponytail longed to be back in her father’s house again. But what was the use? She had no idea where she was or how to get home.
The farmer and his wife said she was welcome to stay and work on their farm. So she did. Weeks passed but still no one believed her. Princess Ponytail grew more and more despondent. It seemed to her that in some ways it was no better here than when she was imprisoned. Partial freedom was really no freedom at all. Princess Ponytail could have left the farmer’s house at any time. She was not their captive but the princess had become so used to captivity that she didn’t recognise freedom. Her captor had done his job well.
Unconsciously she replayed her abuse over and over again. Thoughts of death eventually began to fill her mind. Maybe she would be better off dead. She was sure her father would not want her back after what she had become. She didn’t realise at that stage that love saw beyond those things.
Fears filled her mind day after day. “What if I never find my way home? If I do will I be recognised? What if my Dad doesn’t know me? What if I can never go home?”
Fears that her Dad wouldn’t love and accept her after what she had been through tormented her mind. Why, even she didn’t like who she had become. She wondered whether she would ever be able to look at herself without hating herself. But by far most of the condemnation she suffered wasn’t even conscious. It had become part of her. She didn’t recognise that it was lies that filled her mind and dictated how she saw herself.
The farmer and his wife noticed her sadness and began to talk about it to each other. “You know, dear,” said the farmer’s wife. “Maybe, just maybe, we’ve made a dreadful mistake. I admit the girl doesn’t look much like a princess but how can we be sure?”
“I don’t know, dear,” replied the farmer. “Maybe the only way we can really find out is to take her to the king.”
So the next day they set out for the palace. The journey took many days but eventually the princess began to recognise landmarks, then buildings and then people. She cried out to them but they didn’t recognise her. Maybe no one would. What if her father didn’t recognise her? What if he sent her away? She was too scared to even hope.
Soon they reached the palace and entered its gates. Princess Ponytail didn’t look up, though. She just sat, head bowed, as the fear that her father would not recognise her gripped and tormented her mind.
“Don’t be afraid, child. I’ve heard the king is a wise and gentle man. He’ll not hurt you,” said the farmer’s wife as they entered the palace.
They made their way to the great hall where the king was seated talking to his councillors and explained to the footman at the door why they were there. He, in turn, approached the king and whispered something in his ear.
“Well bring her forward,” he said.
“Go on then, child,” said the farmer. “If what you’ve told us is true you have nothing to fear.”
The King’s heart leapt as Princess Ponytail walked towards him. Could it be, after all these years? Yet he was sure it was. “Daughter, is that really you?”
“Daddy!” she cried, and she ran toward him.
He stood and scooped her into his arms and together they stood tears flowing freely down their faces. Holding her close the king whispered “I thought I had lost you forever. Oh child, I’m so glad you’re still alive. You’ve grown and look so different but I would have known you anywhere. I have missed you so much!”
So the king got his daughter back and although they searched they never did find the man that had kidnapped the princess.
It took a while for the princess’s ponytail to grow back and sometimes people didn’t recognise her for who she really was, but soon her beauty and royal breeding began to show again. Even though the princess was home, and no longer captive, her mind took a lot longer to become free. But slowly, the love and acceptance of her father began to restore Princess Ponytail’s sense of identity and self esteem. Her days and nights became less and less filled with terror and the after-effects of abuse.
Princess Ponytail never forgot the time spent locked in the shack but was determined to use the things she had learnt through it to help others. There were many people whose lives were filled with suffering of one sort or another. Although she wished that her abuse had never happened, Princess Ponytail knew that she would probably never have known such a deep compassion for those who were hurting had she stayed sheltered in the palace.
The end
Copyright – © Lyn Packer 1992 Creative Fire Ministries
This story may not be copied or reproduced in part or in full without the written permission of the author
This story and many others can be found in my two books “Whispers from Heaven” 1 & 2 and are available on our website here
as a child I wanted to learn to dance but we had nine kids in the family, were poor and couldn’t afford lessons so that dream was quickly squashed. but somewhere, someone heard and never forgot.
skip ahead to adulthood – the desire returned but this time it was a desire to dance for the audience of one, daddy God. but how could I, I was broken, unclean and not wanted in my hearts eyes, but I danced anyway and as i did daddy God began to heal and cleanse the brokenness inside.
i clearly remember the day daddy God reminded me of that childhood desire and told me he had never forgotten even if i had, he said “i’ll teach you, i know how to dance” and so he did. in the privacy of my lounge with curtains shut so no one would see me make a fool of myself, slowly, hesitantly, unsure of myself and him I began to dance. then came a day when i was standing in church and he asked me to dance for him in public – a battle raged within me but eventually three months later i said yes and danced. funny enough i though people would see brokenness and unsureness, what they saw and received though was healing and desire to be free like me. i had to laugh, i didn’t yet feel thaaat free but they saw something in me that they desired – it was daddys love really that they saw and they wanted it too.
now years later childhood memories no longer sting and where there were tears there is now laughter. now the child within dances free from fear and my heart knows that the words broken, unclean and not wanted no longer apply to me, instead I am whole, healed, righteoussly clean and so wanted it makes my heart want to burst with the happiness of it. no, those aren’t just words either, they are the truth of a life touched and changed by the power of my daddy God’s love.
over the next few entries i’ll share some of my poetry and stories that show my journey into love. but for today – let’s dance!
dance
spinning, arms thrown wide
i dance
laughter wells up within me
i dance
giddy with joy
i drop to the ground
but the dance goes on
inside me
the child within dances
free from fear
and shadows that taunt
she spins and leaps
and spins again
then she bows
as she ends her dance
for her audience of one.
there is something enticing about a well written story – it draws you in until you become part of it. i have to confess i have loved reading since i was a small child and books have always been a delight and were once a very real escape from a life that was sometimes unbearable. now I read purely for the enjoyment of it and whether it is fiction or non fiction words continue to delight and entice, teach and mold my life. i also love writing both fiction and non fiction but my skill is moderate at best in doing so. it doesn’t stop me writing though as expressing what is in me is a must not an option.
i have recently found someone whose stories entice me time after time to leave my world for a moment and journey into theirs. i say theirs because their blog gives no clue to me of who they are, their gender or their whereabouts. i can only hope that they continue to leave their enticements on that blogsite so i can journey with them and see things through their eyes for at least a little while each week.
check it out for yourself and see if you aren’t hooked too. the blogs name is 1 story a week but one is not enough and i like edmund and his turkish delight crave more but know that more would likely spoil the special delight it is to me.
i love old suitcases. i think it’s because of the well travelled look of them. there is such an air of mystery – where have they been and what have they seen? what have they been used for; have they been put to good use or left languishing in a cupboard or under a bed?
i came across these photos the other day – old suitcases given a new lease of life. part of me loved the idea and part of me hated it. loved it because they were still being used – someone had been creative. repurposed they had a new lease of life and would live on for many years to come. hated it because their travelling days were over, they were now domiciled in one place, no more to roam. they will still have adventures but they will be the domestic kind which never conjure up the same magic and mystery as a life on the road. but the flip side of that is they will be loved and treated kindly, looked on as a part of someones daily life and enjoyed in a whole new way.
here’s the website and a couple of the images to fire up your curiousity. http://theclothspring.com/2011/11/re-purposed-suitcases/
mycreativefire 