Our relationship started with the idea of Cinderella – a one liner about the need to get back to clearing cinders from the fireplace.  It was a lovely whirlwind, and I was convinced I had finally met my prince – especially on the day that he invited me to, of all things, a Ball.  Yes, a real event that really went by the title ‘Navy Ball’. Cinderella indeed.

My date held the rank of Commander, and I can’t tell you how relieved I was to learn that the Navy had declared Dress Blues as the uniform for the evening.  This guy wore sweaters and jeans very well, so I was concerned about maintaining my decorum upon seeing the man I had fallen for with his Richard Gere grey above Navy Dress Whites.  Yow!

My fairy godmother, it turns out, must have still been in training, or perhaps distracted by other princesses.  By the time midnight rolled around, both glass slippers were shattered and the opulent coach had become a scowling jack-o-lantern.   All that’s left is a dress I never expect to wear again, a few Cinderella mementos, another failed romance, and an uncomfortable picture where my hair blends perfectly into the fishtail decor on the wall behind us.

Well, that, and one more image…one that my Protector showed me while I was still dreaming of arriving at the ball on the arm of my prince.  He and I discussed the future day when I would be escorted and introduced, not by a Commander in the U.S. Navy, but by The Commander of the Armies of the Lord.

When you belong to Jesus and God the Father, who needs a fairy godmother??