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[img]http://www.woodsbarn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Girl-with-Crown-Dark.jpg [/img] A relative of mine posted this picture on Facebook. Beneath it she wrote “Daughter of …” Then left it open for comments. The obvious answer being a King. The picture is delightful. The idea an inspiring one at various times. But I’ve changed. And last night the “Daughter of a King” phrase felt hollow.
The tug that has been a faith transition has put me on a different level with God. He may not feel it, but I do. He is still an overwhelming part of my life. I have always prayed, but now I seek Him differently. When I pray, I talk, I thank, I throw out suppositions, I glory, and I ache. Not that I didn’t before, but rote of past is gone. My prayers are no longer formulaic. Neither is my life. Neither is He.
He and I are gritty now. No fancy crowns, no marbled thrones, no white, glossy, illuminated anything. My hands are blistered. So are his. When I cry out and I don’t hear from Him, I figure He is somewhere deeper and darker than I am at the moment.
I am a daughter of the Divine (you pick how that works for you). But neither of us are the radiant souls I imagined us to be. Funny thing, I like us both better this way.
Sounds like your new relationship is more like a realistic close father-daughter (or maybe even friend to friend) relationship than the king-servant relationship it used it be. When I think about it, sometimes the old way of praying felt like I was going through a drive-thru, requesting what I want and saying thanks for the meal I received. I know I definitely feel closer to God when I just talk out loud to Him about things that have been on my mind lately, like he’s a normal person. I know part of it is being able to process my thoughts when I say them out loud while I’m alone, but it is also comforting for whatever other reason.
Eta: that sure is a beautiful drawing, though!
I suppose if people like the idea then more power to them. I think the most positive outcome is that girls and young women can develop more positive self esteem by tying their own self worth to their divine parentage. I suppose one of the things missing from this is a positive female role model. Being the daughter of a king makes you a princess. Historically, princesses were not given power or authority.
What does a strong and capable daughter of a king do?
So, respond with “a queen”. 
What Mormon is going to argue with that?
That was actually my first thought, Ray. I realize we are not kings and queens, but many of us are anointed to become kings and queens. Doesn’t that make us princesses and princes? (It’s like the iced tea not being a hot drink thing – but I would be more likely to say my wife is a princess and why in public.) I am thinking about “The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe” in this regard. The sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve become co-rulers. There seems to be a sense of equality among them. Funny, I completed that sentence with “No One” and it gives me peace to say that. I like thinking of myself as someone in a different time zone than other deities, but possessive of power and strength nonetheless. Paradoxically, thinking of myself as an entity unto my self allows me a broader sense of community because I (and we) participate through choice. Willingness to embark is a value I hold dearly, so it gives me a lot of peace to think that the people who surround me and who I help surround are all there because we chose to be. Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
From the title all I could think about is how royalty doesn’t have the appeal that it used to. My image of kings is that they were more often tyrants than not. Everyone seemed to believe the royal family was somehow at a higher level than the rest of humanity, back in the old days, but I think we should be so far beyond that by now. …yet I don’t know how to illustrate the idea of reaching for the higher level. We should reach for more than the common “eye for an eye” mentality. There are too many thugs in the world, how do we elevate?
Amen to so many comments here. In former years and dark hours the idea that I was connected to something Divine, like God, was a boost. Because of that memory I get the connection – but something more tangible yearns to replace the old comparison. Orson your questions come closest to my wonderings.
I volunteer at a Homeless Shelter. For 5 months out of the year I am face to face with people who live on the streets or in their cars. They are God’s children, too. Their only goal in life is often shelter from the storm. A 5 min hot shower, hopefully food enough to calm a starving belly, and a mat on a church gymnasium floor. Too many obstacles stand in their way for life to be much more than that. This morning I handed a 2 year old toe headed little girl 2 brown bag lunches. One for her and one for Mom. The lunch seemed lame and necessary at the same time.
It is in those moments that the glorious, glowing God of my teens, steps out of His eminence, and becomes something less glossy. His Divinity changes. I see a weary King. In brown robes, blistered hands, calloused knees, and feet. And I find I am so far from that. I cherish my glossiness. I yearn for eminence. All the while he yearns to love.
And Her – Heavenly Mother. Her heart breaks. If our concept is even close, these are her babies. Her offspring that she sent down with every mother’s wish and prayer for success, delight, fulfillment, and joy. She wears no crown or silken clothes. Her sleeves are rolled up, her eyes rimmed with tired dark circles. “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”
I can’t explain it more than this. It’s changed forever. And I hope in me, for the good.
Beautiful. Thank you for your insight. Both your posts, mom3…are incredibly powerful to me,and what I needed to read today. I was going to post some of my first thoughts…but actually now feel inadequate. I’ll leave it with what you wrote and thank your for your example and wisdom.
You’re awesome. You’re that little girl with a crown. That’s what I envision. Thanks for posting.
I had this thought kicking around in the back of my mind for a while. mom3 wrote:
It is in those moments that the glorious, glowing God of my teens, steps out of His eminence, and becomes something less glossy. His Divinity changes. I see a weary King. In brown robes, blistered hands, calloused knees, and feet. And I find I am so far from that. I cherish my glossiness. I yearn for eminence. All the while he yearns to love.And Her – Heavenly Mother. Her heart breaks. If our concept is even close, these are her babies. Her offspring that she sent down with every mother’s wish and prayer for success, delight, fulfillment, and joy. She wears no crown or silken clothes. Her sleeves are rolled up, her eyes rimmed with tired dark circles. “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”
When the Israelites in the meridian of time looked for the Messiah they looked for him to come in glory with conquering armies. He came instead as the child of a carpenter born in the most humble of circumstances.
Are we not children of the Good Shepherd? Are we not children of the Master Healer? Are we not children of the patient teacher? Are we not the children of the “Servant of all”?
May we follow in those footsteps as well.
That is beautiful, Roy. Thank you.
I hope you don’t mind me sharing it on Facebook and my personal blog without direct attribution. (“a friend of mine”)
Share away. I am glad to count you as a friend. :thumbup: Roy – Beautiful. Thank you.
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