as the Lord is not finished with his work in my life yet.
I dedicate this to the Author of my faith,
who is a much better writer than I will ever be…
With love from Connie
“Brothers, think of what you were when you were called.
Not many of you were wise by human standards;
not many were influential; not many were of noble birth.
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.
He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—
and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are,
so that no one may boast before him.”
~1 Corinthians 1:26-29
Once upon a time, there was a Great King, who lived in a Great Castle, and who ruled over a Great Kingdom and all the Realms Beyond. Most of the realms beyond the kingdom were considered wild, mysterious, and dangerous, strangely charmed and populated by the most unusual creatures. But one of the realms – the Faerie Realm - has become so famous that even you have probably heard of it. And even if you don’t really believe in such things, you have certainly enjoyed its magic, for it is where Spring is born.
You may recall breathing the perfume of its miraculous flowers at the end of winter, when the air is still chilly and the grass is still crispy brown; when the frost still lingers… when you feel Spring coming. It caresses your skin and tickles your nose and kisses your cheeks and you know that it is near, and a new surge of hope warms you to your fingertips and brings a smile to your face. That feeling is a gift from the fairies, who celebrate the Spring in colorful breezes and wild, beautiful dances. It is the flutter of their wings and the swirl of their gowns which you sense, the crystal sound of their laughter that you wonder if you actually hear. They ceaselessly rejoice in the Spring, for their enchanted world is forever bursting with fresh and glorious life.
What a joyful place it is! Oh, to fly effortlessly above fields of brilliant poppies, tulips, and daisies which tumble over each other, vying for the attention of the generous sun. And oh, to dip among them, drinking in their fragrance - sweeter than any flower of any other realm, for they are nourished by fairy dust and melodious laughter. To join the winged creatures as they play and flirt in the trees – great, magnificent trees which shed downy cherry blossoms with every quiver of their boughs. To experience the thrill-
“Hey, lady! Why aren’t you flying like everyone else?” An uninhibited sprite crashed through the poetic thoughts and private dreams of a single fairy named Lynn, who was nestled in a bed of daffodils. The fairy squinted up at the chubby creature bouncing and flapping obnoxiously just above her head. She couldn’t tell if she felt more awkward from the gushing inquisitiveness of the child or from the obvious embarrassment of the nanny as she tried to silence the child and escape the situation all together. Either way, the question was asked, and it deserved an answer.
“I can’t fly like you do,” Lynn recited patiently but vaguely, “because my wings do not work like yours do.”
Before the interview continued, the nanny took the sprite by the hand and led her into the trees, where more questions poured forth, growing fainter as the party rose higher: “Nanny, why can’t that lady fly? What happened to her wings? What is wrong with her?”
Lynn lay back again, intending to resume her daydream. But the sound of the voices trickled down and she couldn’t help but overhear the familiar story as it was told once more:
“Once upon a time, there was a fairy couple who had a baby girl. All the fairies in the land rejoiced, she was lovely and sweet, and fairies from near and far admired her seeming perfection; but as she grew, it was discovered that her wings did not work like other fairies’ wings. They were small and weak, and became tired easily from the feeble attempts at flight. Alas, though she was a fairy by nature and heritage, there was no magic to be found.
“All the other fairies loved her very much, and it saddened them to consider her loss. They came one by one to offer their gifts of healing. One fairy brought charms and danced around the babe, but the charms brought no strength to the small muscles. A second fairy brought a book of spells and chanted magic words, but the spells did not revive the lifeless wings. A third fairy brought potions of all sorts, and measured them out for the child to drink, but the potions also had no effect. Magicians, elves, and wizards were called upon, yet none of their powers seemed to help. So the young fairy grew up among the flowers, always feeling the damp earth and mossy grass beneath her feet and never knowing the thrill of the breeze lifting her high above.
“No one knows the mystery of her handicap, but there are many speculations. Some wonder if there was a tragic accident, or if she was neglected as a child and didn’t receive the proper flight training. Some even believe there was a curse upon her because of some unspeakable evil… And some question why she even had wings if they were not meant to be used.
“But there now, this story is far too sad to entertain a child like you. Come, dear, let us sing a song to lift our spirits, shall we?”