“Hello,” I said smiling at the piercing blue eyes and tousled head of my little friend. “It is quite some time since you have been around.”
I wondered at the fact that, as I grew older and more wrinkled by the minute, Justme always stayed the same. A small boy with a mop of curls, blue dungarees, red sweatshirt and, most important of all, the infectious joy of living that shone from his eyes.
“Feeling sad?” he asked.
“Just a bit,” I replied. “I have this friend who is far from well, and as much as I keep trying to help and support her, she seems to be getting further and further away from me. I am not sure what the answer is or even if there is an answer.”
“Hmmmm, I was hoping that you would have time to read me a story,” he said, pointing to a book tucked firmly under his left arm.
“Is it a good story?”
“I could probably find a good one. Can I choose?”
” I said. “You choose and I will read.”
I settled myself comfortably in the armchair and Justme climbed up on my lap busily hunting through his book to find the page he wanted.
“Lets have The Little Princess” he said
“The Little Princess it is,” I replied.
We settled ourselves comfortably and I began to read……….
Long ago in the centre of the Town Square stood a statue of a Little Princess. It was the most beautiful statue that the people had ever seen. The Little Princess was dancing with a garland of flowers around her neck. She wore a beautiful lace dress and had the face of an angel. No one knew who had sculptured this fine figure and the people believed that she had been “Made by The Hand of God. They loved to see the statue and often stopped to look at it as they went about their business.
Over the years the statue had become rather weather beaten. It began to change to a dullish sort of grey and small blemishes appeared- particularly on the nose and ears. Few people noticed the changes, but The Little Princess knew and it made her sad. Living with imperfection was something she was not used to. She worried about how long it would be before someone did notice and then people would cease to love her – maybe even replace her for a new statue.
It was one New Years Eve when the revellers gathered around the statue of the Little Princess and someone climbed up to the top and placed a hat on her head.
“That will keep you warm for the winter,” he shouted as he wound his merry way home.
The Little Princess was very pleased to have the hat. It was a pretty hat and it covered all the blemishes very well indeed. With the hat on no one could see what was happening underneath. It suited her just fine.
As the winter came on The Little Princess was glad of the warmth of the hat. The wind blew it low over her face where it protected her from the cold wine, the stinging rain, and the icy fingers of the frost.
The Little Princess snuggled further and further inside it.
Soon the cold winds made room for the warmer days of spring. The sun began to filter through and the world began to awaken. Tiny seeds caught in the brim of The Little Princess’s hat felt the changing season and began to come alive. It was not long before buds began to appear and, before you knew it, the hat was aglow with the radiant colours of summer flowers.
The townsfolk were delighted.
“Look at The Little Princess’s hat!” they cried. “Isn’t it beautiful!”
Every day more and more people came to look at the hat. Every day the butterflies danced and the bees swarmed around it. It was certainly a sight to be seen.
At first The Little Princess was proud and pleased but soon she began to realise that nobody was coming to see her any more. They were all coming to see the hat! The hat was so low over her eyes that she could no longer see anything but what was worse was that it appeared that nobody was able to see her either! It was not just the blemishes she was hiding; it was her whole being!
The Little Princess began to cry but nobody noticed.
“It is as if I am not here,” she wailed to herself. “That hat that I was so pleased with has been the worse thing that has happened to me.”
And so the summer went on. The hat drawing more and more attention and The Little Princess becoming more and more of a nobody.
“It would not matter if I was not here,” she cried as despair set in.
It was towards the end of September when the Old Man appeared in the Town Square. The flowers were fading fast and the trees were beginning to think about their gaudy autumnal dresses. He stood across the street looking at The Little Princess and then slowly made his was up close to peer under the hat. He watched as the tears softly flowed and listened carefully to the sobbing of her heart.
Slowly he reached up and removed the battered old hat. Tenderly he wiped the tears away from the sad little face.
“My child,” he said kindly. “Everything is beautiful and perfect unto its own purpose. Perfect to meet the challenges and changes it meets though it’s lifetime. It is not the changes that are important but the way you deal with the challenges. Look around you and see how the caterpillar meets the challenge of the butterfly…how the trees meet the challenge of the winter….how the wrinkled faces of wisdom meet the challenges of life. Beautiful…all beautiful in their own way… all perfect unto their purpose. Weathering the storm is part of your challenge – bringing joy to others yet another part. When you wear your scars with pride you show the world that you have met your challenges.”
The Old Man reached up and kissed The Little Princess on the scarred part of your nose.
“Beautiful….just beautiful,” he said.
The Little Princess opened her eyes and saw before her all the things she had been missing. The trees in their brilliance of yellows, oranges and red….the robin that sat on the fountain edge….the people stopping to smile their approval of her presence. She felt a warm glow rise up inside her until it burst forth in the joy of a smile.
“Look!”, called a small boy. “The princess is back! The Princess is back! She has no hat and she is smiling. She is BEAUTIFUL!”
And, sure enough The Little Princess was back. Dancing and smiling for those who loved her.
She looked for the Old Man to thank him but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Perfect to meet any challenge” she hummed to herself.
Carefully I closed the book.
“Did you like the story?” asked Justme.
“I liked it very much,” I said.
“Did you feel sad for The Little Princess?”
“A bit. But feeling sad is no answer is it? I guess the answer lies more with helping someone to meet their own challenges…to be there to show them that however hard things may be the silver lining is always there in the end – although it may not always be what we wanted or expected.”
Justme smiled as he wriggled round to slide off my lap. The book slipped from the arm of the chair to the floor. I leaned over and reached out to retrieve it. When I turned back Justme had disappeared.
I opened the book again to take another look at the picture of The Little Princess.
Every page was blank.
