So maybe I wasn’t born into the Royal Family and beseeched with adoring Brits and Royal watchers the world over tracking my every hiccup, pimple, gaff, dress of the day, pound gained or lost, and event attended by infinite mobs of paparazzi with camera lenses the length of yardsticks. I’ve never had women faint or men swoon and lay down their coat for my dry clean feet to tread, simply because of my existence.
I’ve never been deserving of security detail, a personal hairdresser, chef, or secretary to manage my job of social engagements and charitable work, though I would love to have the latter three just for kicks!
When I was pregnant with each of my own brood of three children, the world didn’t stop spinning if I woke up hugging the royal porcelain throne. I certainly wasn’t given a diagnosis with as many syllables as Princess Kate has been given. No, I was simply told, “It’s normal; now go eat a cracker.”
Yes, it’s not always easy being a mere serf to servitude and
simplicity, complex array of daily chaos. It’s challenging indeed. There are no minions to blame. There is no staff to assist. There is only my individual blood, sweat, tears, and frequent sleeplessness that accompanies the challenge of trying to do it all: work a day job, raise kids, assist parents, volunteer at church and school, clean house, laundry, attend and reply to endless paperwork, pay bills, feed pets, chauffer children to school and activities, help with homework, find time to play, oh and breathe!
The real challenge is trying to find the essential time known as “Liz Time.” Yes, these are the precious hours necessary to rejuvenate my own soul: writing, photography, my beloved bible study group, or trying to catch up with good friends.
Living life outside the palace is messy. We sorely lack a protocol of propriety. It’s not always structured and it’s rarely consistent. Yes, high drama occasionally exists outside the drawbridge but doesn’t make the press (thankfully)! There is no portcullis at our home’s entrance to shield us from the dangers of the outside world. We have no moat to slow down the uninvited guest or Royal Guard to interrogate and arrest the annoying solicitors who all come at inopportune times. Ready or not, our house is always open.
But before you grab a monogrammed hanky and cry for me Argentina, hold your horses. I am grateful for my commoner status. Above all, I am grateful that I don’t live inside a fishbowl where perfection is the water one must constantly swim in. For I know this much is true: I would drown. Quickly.
See I have evolved over the years. I have reframed my thinking. I am not a slave to my family or even to forces outside my control. I am indeed a princess of three things:
A Princess of Procrastination: Ask any accomplished, or worse, struggling (aka “wannabe”) artist, writer, painter, visionary (okay…I’ll stop there) and they will tell you this: You sometimes must procrastinate regarding your duties of life in order to nurture your high calling, even if at this moment it is perceived only by you. For who knows the plans God has for you? Perhaps, you were born for such a time as time as this. Translation: To respond to intuition and to occasionally shirk what others perceive as duty. Wisdom whispers quietly sometimes.
A Princess of Prognostication: Yes, because the winds of perpetual change often blow in and out of our home, it sometimes feels as if our so-called fortunes can only be predetermined by the accuracy of my prognostications. That is to say, if I freak out better and more efficiently, you will get off your butt and see the urgency this particular situation requires and quickly get on board! Indeed! A prophet in her own household is rarely met with honor. So be it. My predictions, assessments, and royal decrees march onward, until even I am reminded of a simple truth: Submit. Pray. You are not in charge. Even though you sometimes act as if you are.
A Princess of Peripatetic Proportions: Nothing lasts forever. This too shall pass. Wanderlust. The world is so beautiful.
These thoughts comfortably coexist in my brain. Life is sometimes challenging on the home front, but it’s equally good as challenges not only make us stronger; they reveal who we truly are.
In the midst of trial, I’ve been known to contemplate what life is like outside my kingdom. What is happening at this moment under the Eiffel Tower? Does the Taj Mahal have a five o’clock shadow? Is a child crying for her mother in Halong Bay? Will the Asteroid belt continue holding up around us? Who is hurting near me? Can I help?
I realize life is indeed good. Blessed, in fact. This is not of my making, but of God’s. He has given me life, health, and a family to be grateful for and good things too numerous to count. He has given me tears to assist with trials and a trust to deal with life on life’s terms: a temporary assignment. Because I don’t have to be entirely responsible for generating my own strength or controlling outcome, I am immensely grateful.
I am a princess indeed. A princess of grace. Thank you. Thank you very much!