There is nothing immediately
noticeable about her that distinguishes her from most young ladies her age. She is not exactly lovely, but her milky-white
skin is free of blemishes; her sparkly, slightly mischievous blue eyes are framed
by eyelashes that could use a little accentuating; and her long dark hair rebelliously
escapes from the styles that try to contain it.
She spends carefree summer afternoons alternating between giggling with
her best friend about the stylish new dress in the window at the village shop,
and exploring the small woods near her home, imagining that she is on a quest
to find a hidden treasure. A perfect
combination of feminine daydreams and tomboy amusement.
She has heard the legendary tale, of
course, of a girl named Cinderella, an ordinary girl like herself whose mundane,
predictable life was turned upside down when the prince chose her above every
other maiden in the kingdom. How she
longed to be beautiful like that! To
have the prince search tirelessly until he found her, and then whisk her off to
the palace on his white horse for a perfect, story-book ending.
Oh, how she dreams of the
future! She can only imagine what an
exciting life awaits her “out there,” away from this provincial village that
hasn’t changed in centuries. She longs
for a life of adventure, to travel to far-off countries with exotic sights and
strange-smelling food. To do something
important! She wants to experience the
world, to become someone whom other people would describe as interesting and confident
and brave.
One chilly autumn day, the young
woman strolls down the path on her way to town, daydreaming and anticipating the
annual Fall Festival that is being planned.
Hard-working farmers and jovial shop-keepers and skilled tradesmen from
the surrounding countryside will all be coming together in a few short days to
celebrate this year’s bountiful harvest.
She knows she will be meeting a lot of different people, and she wonders
what she should wear and tries to imagine how her hair would look in a cute new
style that she had heard was becoming popular in the bigger towns.
Suddenly, her thoughts are
interrupted when she notices a little bird that had obviously been injured, peeping
angrily and desperately, flailing his tiny wings as if it were drowning right
there on the path. Could this be the
bird she had heard about just a few days ago?
The royal family had posted a notice in the town square, an announcement
that the villagers had all read and discussed with each other, the only juicy
tidbit of news worth mentioning recently.
The prince’s prized falcon was missing.
But no, surely this couldn’t be the
prince’s lost falcon that everyone was talking about. This was a just a frail creature of no
significance, hardly bigger than the palm of her hand. Most likely it had become injured when it had
accidentally fallen from a tree nearby. Surely,
its mother would find it soon. And if
not, what would it matter if it didn’t survive?
There were many, many other birds, too many perhaps, judging by their
noisy chirping in the wee hours of the morning and the mess they made all over
the statue in town; what difference would it make if this tiny one didn’t live?
And besides, what does she know
about taking care of animals anyway? What
do birds eat? How would she keep it warm
during the winter months ahead? She knows
absolutely nothing about fixing broken wings.
It would probably be best to let someone else, someone with more
expertise and experience, take responsibility for helping this poor creature.
She hesitates for a few moments, but
when no mother bird seems likely to appear, the girl’s heart fills with
compassion. She puts her apprehensions
aside and decides that she would indeed be the one to care for it, to do her
best to nurse it back to health.
One thing she quickly discovers
about injured creatures is that they have to eat every hour, around the clock,
day and night. The days turn into weeks
and then months, the bird’s rehabilitation much slower than the girl had
anticipated. However, she remains
faithful and vigilant in her duties, squeezing syringes of food into his little
beak, drop by drop by drop. She gingerly
removes the bandages on its injured wings, replacing them with ones that had
been carefully washed and dried. The
bird's incessant chirping and demanding screeches cause her previously peaceful home and
independent lifestyle to become a distant memory.
Gradually, the circles under her
eyes begin to darken, evidence of nights without sleep. Her hair loses some of its luster, because frankly,
there are some days that she is so weary that she simply cannot summon the
energy to wash it. Her quest to become
beautiful has been put on hold, and is now beginning to take its toll. So much
for the proverbial glass slipper. There is
no way a charming prince would ever find her attractive now!
Day after day, she bustles alone
inside her home, measuring food, checking the schedule, keeping the bird warm
and fed. She had missed the
much-anticipated Fall Festival, along with the door-to-door wassailing during
the holidays and the Epiphany Day feast.
With every invitation that she is forced to decline, with every detail
her friends share about their still-carefree lives, her dreams of adventure
slowly begin to die. How could she even
think of travelling and exploring and discovering the world, of accomplishing
great feats of courage, when it is a herculean challenge just to make it into
town each week for basic supplies? When
all her days are consumed with caring for this bird, this little creature that
is so utterly dependent upon her?
Slowly but surely, the bird begins
to strengthen and grow. By the time the winter snow has thawed and spring’s
promise is in the air, the bird has changed dramatically, its chest becoming
robust, its wings strong and its feathers thick and glossy. A successful transformation!
Unfortunately, the young woman’s
appearance has also changed, and not at all for the better. Her arms have become scratched with those
little claws that almost overnight have become talons, and she has frequently gotten
pecked with that razor-sharp beak. This animal that she has so lovingly nursed
back to health has often lashed out at her in fear or anger when he doesn’t
understand that what she is doing is best for him. Consequently, her creamy, flawless skin becomes
disfigured and scarred, no longer perfect.
Inevitably, the day comes when the creature,
no longer needing her care, is finally healthy enough to fly. And just as she had predicted would happen,
he flies away, and while she releases a momentary sigh of relief that this
burdensome responsibility has come to an end, her heart is unexpectedly hollow. She hadn’t realized how much she had grown to
love this poor, defenseless animal in her care.
Her emotions are jumbled and difficult to discern. She is confused and disoriented at the
unfairness of it all! After all this
time, giving up her dreams and ambitions in order to care for this bird, and what
does she have to show for it?
She is no longer pretty, and she no
longer has much optimism that she will ever become so. She is no longer naïve and fun-loving, but
has become serious and wise with experience.
While her friends are still wearing fashionable clothing, meeting
interesting people, and making plans to travel “out there”, her life has
inadvertently taken a different path. Her
priorities have changed. She has no
choice but to accept the sobering truth:
she has nothing in common with most of her village friends anymore. She is unlovely and dull. Different.
Soon afterwards, quite unexpectedly,
the news reaches her small town that the prince himself is arriving! The townspeople knew that this day would come
eventually, but no one could have predicted when exactly it would happen. Everyone knew that he would be coming and searching
for the most beautiful young lady in all of the land to be his bride. The young woman’s heart gives a small leap of
excitement at the news, before she remembers the truth: the prince would take one look at her, if he
notices her at all, and would probably roll his eyes in disdain. She doesn’t even have time to brush her hair
or change her dress before rushing out the door to join the others who are
assembling in the village square for this thrilling occasion.
The trumpeters announce the prince’s
arrival with much fanfare. There are
ripples of excitement and anticipation throughout the crowd. “There he is!” she hears others exclaim. “I see him!”
Through the throngs of people, the young woman can just barely catch a
glimpse of the prince’s face. She almost
forgets to blink, she’s concentrating so hard on just staring at his face. Yes, she realizes, he is indeed every bit as
regal and handsome as she had dreamed he would be. His robes trail behind him in stunning colors
she has never seen before. And there, she
notices with a shock, perched nobly on his leather glove is the bird, her bird, the same one she had nurtured
for so long. However, it is no longer
tiny and frail, but strong and just as majestic as the prince himself. It had indeed been the prince’s beloved falcon,
after all!
What is happening? The prince’s horse comes to an abrupt halt. Directly in front of her. How could this be? Surely there must be a mistake! He dismounts in one fluid motion, looks at
her, right at her and declares with
sure conviction, loudly enough for everyone to hear, but tenderly enough that there
is no mistaking whom he is addressing, “You, my love. I choose you.”
Almost with a mind of its own,
before her brain has a chance to form the thought, her mouth blurts the words, “But
why? Surely you would prefer the most
beautiful girl in the kingdom. Someone
that has not been marred. Someone who is
perfect.”
The prince just smiles, and even
chuckles a little. “You are right,” he admits. “I do want the most beautiful girl, and
that’s precisely why I choose you. You
see, the scars on your arms are proof that you showed compassion to a helpless
creature. Compassion is stunningly
beautiful!
He reaches to touch a strand of hair
that had fallen across her face. “The
dark circles under your eyes and the less-than perfect hair show that you are willing
to sacrifice your needs in order to care for another. What could be more gorgeous than
sacrifice?
When his thumb gently strokes her
cheek, she can hardly breathe. “Those
tear stains on your face?” he points out with affection. “Those are simply lovely. They are evidence that you chose the harder
path, the one that required you to love fiercely and protectively, knowing that
you would have to eventually say good-bye.”
“But you know,” he continues, “the
most beautiful thing of all to me is the empty satchel, the barely-used traveling
shoes. They mean that you have
faith. In spite of your desire for
adventure and excitement, you remained diligent to the task before you, faithful
and humble. Your feet remained at home, in
the private place where no one was watching. You held strongly to your belief that what you
were doing was important. And indeed, it
did matter. You cared for this falcon, although
you had no idea it belonged to me. Even when
you didn’t know, you were doing it for me.”
He gently takes the young lady’s
hand and leads her to his horse, white of course, which would carry them to his
palace. And just as she had dreamed all
along, they live happily ever after. Her
prince had come and he had chosen her. She
had become beautiful.
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