I never went to the dances at high school. I was too shy. There were too many opportunities for disaster. What if I looked silly dancing? What if I was dressed wrong? What if I committed some major social faux pas? I skipped my prom for the same reasons. My goal in those days was to blend into the background and draw no attention to myself. I was very successful at it.
Of course I had regrets. I dreamed of being the belle of the ball just once, of dancing the night away with a prince while wearing a lovely gown. As the years passed, my dream faded as dreams often do. I had aged and the days of dances and proms were over.
It was too late. My time had passed (or, so I thought).
For, you see, today I went to a ball. I wore a gown, jewels, glass slippers and even a tiara. And, I swayed to the music in the arms of my prince. My dreams had finally come true and there was no room for any hesitation or self-confidence issues.
It all started with a visit from my fairy godmother, a tiny nymph dressed in a yellow gown. She had crazy eyeliner/eyebrows drawn on her face with bold strokes and she was completely unaware of her odd appearance. She spoke with authority and was the very picture of self-confidence.
She went through my closet and ordered, “Put this on.” She opened my jewelry box and picked out purple mardi-gras beads and hotdog bun earrings with little mustaches on them for me to wear. She put shiny patent leather pumps on over my maroon polka-dot socks and a dollar store crown on my head.
Once dressed in my finery, I was dragged down the hall to the ball room (Jerry’s office). Jer had music playing on his computer and my little fairy godmother pushed me towards him and said: “Dance!” We had no choice but to comply, Jerry in his shorts and me in my odd get-up.
My fairy godmother was thrilled. She squealed and clapped her hands in excitement. And, as I swayed to the music I realized that in her eyes I was the belle of the ball. Even in my strange ensemble, my fairy godmother thought I was beautiful (and so did my prince). No one in the ballroom cared what I wore, how I danced, or what social mistakes I made. I was finally free.
I picked up my little fairy godmother and twirled her with me. She had taught me an important lesson. I was fine just the way I was no matter what I wore, no matter what mistakes I made. She, and more importantly God, loved me. I had spent far too long lamenting my shortcomings and faults. It was time to celebrate the perfect love and acceptance that comes from my savior, Jesus Christ. And, I prayed that it was a lesson she and I would remember forever.
It is never too late.