I love small spaces, tiny places like Disney’s Storybook Land.

Storybook Land is whimsical, fantastical, magical.

It’s everything Disney’s cracked up to be.

Call me a sucker, but here’s the truth. Just plop me in one of Storybook Land’s boats, float me around its winding, narrow waterways built in 1955, and I’m good to go.

As I pass each wonderful world, I’m tempted to jump right over, jump right in to inhabit the small spaces and tiny places.

How wonderful would it be to become acquainted with that cottage? How peaceful would it be to stroll those stones on the way to the mail each day? How enchanting would it be to have a valiant knight in shining armor transport you to the castle on his white-as-snow horse? How quaint would it be to find yourself lost in the village, meandering ’till your soul’s caught right up with the rest of you?

So when our favorite local nursery started carrying all the things needed to create a fairy garden, I was all in. The only problem was that I didn’t have a budget to create my own whimsical, fantastical, and magical fairy garden. So I just kept ooh-ing and ah-ing over the possibility of my own tiny worlds, thinking one day, maybe one day, it’d be possible.

One day, yes one day, on my birthday, my valiant knight in shining armor husband surprised me with a small world of my own.

Do with it as you may, do with it as you might, he said.

So I did.

I decided a fairy garden right in the garden is what I wanted.

So we dug and we planted, we moved and we marked. Arbor nestled here. Little bridge over there. Creeping thyme over here. Creeping thyme over there.

Voila!

A small space, a tiny place.

Right in our garden.

A world to get lost in, find space in, seek rest in.

A world to wonder and to wander, even if but a moment.

A world to call beautiful. A place to call peace.

A small world of our own.

Whimsical.

Magical.

Fantastical.

In the blink of an eye, we’ll be back at Storybook Land. We’ll ride waterways and be transported to Disney’s worlds just as magically as we have every other time.

In the meantime, we’ll enjoy our own small space, our own tiny place.

It doesn’t have a name for now.

But it’s ours.

It’s mine.

My tiny world.

A world like no other.

Dear Beautiful But Bound You:

I see you. You, created for so much more. You, whose presence graces this bountiful land. You, formed in your mother’s womb for a purpose, a plan.

Yet you, bound by the things of this world. You, hiding in darkness. You, trapped in the tiniest of places, tucked away spaces nobody knows but you. You, lost in great voids, valleys, wandering, wondering how in the world you’ll ever get out.

You, I see you. I know you. You’re bound. Bound.

You, bound by things. You buy. And you buy. More is the word. More and more. More and more. You want for nothing, but you want for more. You buy to fill the void, buy to hide the pain. You think stuff will quench your deepest longings to be loved, known, filled with purpose. You buy to impress, buy to feel good. You buy to make things better, buy so people will know you better. You buy, buy and buy. You feel the high, then crash and die. So you buy, buy, buy some more to fill the gaping hole that’s your heart.

You, bound by flesh. Your body’s your idol. You workout like a madwoman. Rock solid abs, buns of steel your goal. You take on workouts like they’re your job. You do it all. Cardio. Weights. Resistance. 5Ks. 10Ks. You have the gear, you know the game. Your eating? Pure. Clean. Only from the earth. Ice cream’s from the devil, and devil’s food? Well, you know. And others? You’re trapped deep in your own flesh, tell yourselves things you’d never tell anyone else. I’ll never lose that weight. I’ll never feel good. I’ll never be a size 8, 12, 34, 36 again. I can’t do it. I’ve lost control. I’m just fat, fat, fat. Forget it.

You, bound by work. Oh you, beautiful you. Your soul’s fatigued. You work and work and work so hard. Day in, day out, your life’s on the line. You have no boundaries. You know no limits. You can do anything, so you think. Perhaps others will love you more if you work longer. Perhaps you’ll climb higher if you work harder. Perhaps you’ll rise to the top and everyone will notice if you do this, do that, just push a little farther. Work is your life. You know no rest. Work and work and work some more. If you work hard enough, you’ll finally make it. But let’s be honest. All this working’s left you with nothing but work, work, work.

You, bound by substance. What can I say? You, so full of potential. You, so gloriously made. You, quite literally, waste your days away. You excuse, deny your behavior, act as if it’s nothing. Hide it away, tuck it away, try to make light of it, but it’ll bind you for a lifetime if you’re not careful. Your relationships? They’re suffering. Your potential? It’s wasting away. Your peace of mind? Let’s get real, it’s nonexistent. You know in your heart this isn’t right. This getting wasted, getting high, this tucking away pills and potions, bottles and beers? It’s not working for you, hon. It’s not working. You’re bound. Bound by an addiction that’s trapped every fiber of your soul.

You, bound by expectations. You, oh you. You expect so much. Your standards are high, unrealistically high. Why oh why did you ever believe in this perfection? Why oh why did you ever start this all? Why oh why do you set goals you’ll never achieve, he’ll never achieve, she’ll never achieve? Every day you fall, it’s your own fault. Your expectations were lofty, beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Do this. Do that. Do everything in between. Do it all. You can do it. But truth be told, half of it’s too much. You’re bound, sweet one, by illusions. You’re delusional in your wanting it that way and this way, this way and that.

You, bound by your past. I don’t want to forget you. You, bound by things of days gone by. You’re trapped in memories from a time machine stuck on reverse. The dark, ugly secrets of your past? The mistakes you made? The days that went horribly wrong? They haunt you, hunt you, want you to sink deeper and deeper into quick sand. You’re desperate to relive time. You’d die for a chance to go back, repair it all. You’d give anything to erase those days from the slate. But it’s impossible, right? So you stay stuck there, in days gone by, unable to heal, unable to forgive, unable to repair the tragedies that tore you apart.

You, bound by things unnamed, unseen. Hey, you. What is it? What binds you? What keeps you up at night? What keeps you from flying high? What hinders the best you from shining through? Only you know. Only you can see. Only you know the truth. Only you can face the facts about your reality, your totality.

You, bound.

Awake.

Arise.

Break free from the chains.

Come, dear one. Come.

Don’t be afraid.

Don’t be afraid.

It’s you who’s longing to be free.

It’s you who’s desperate to be seen.

It’s you who’s calling, you who’s falling, you who’s gnawing to get out.

So get out.

Get up.

Be free.

Be redeemed.

Walk away from all that binds.

And be.

Be free.

The cake’s lit up. Today’s for you, dear one.

What wish will you have? What wish will it be?

Dream grand. Dream big, sweet one.

For there’s only one you. You, beautiful you.

Where would you go? Who would you be? How would you live life that’s meant to be?

Do you believe it is possible? Do you believe it is true? That you are the one and only you?

What will it be, dear? What will it be?

Tell me, tell me. I long for you to see.

What does your heart say? What does it say?

Go?

Stay?

Be?

What, dear one, will be your wish?

If you could have anything, anything, anything? What would that be? What would that be?

See.

See.

See.

To see is my wish for you, for me.

To see the beauty every day.

To see the purpose in your pain.

To see life’s canvas, waiting, white.

To see your future, beauty, bright.

To see miraculous you, you.

To see the love that’s waiting on you.

To see your life for what it is.

To see that you are truly His.

To see.

See.

My birthday wish, for you, for me.

To see.

16 years in to this thing called marriage…

We know that wedding day was much, much more than a dress and a tux, a bouquet and boutonniere.

16 years in…

Puppy love has all but disappeared. In it’s place, a richer, deeper, grounded definition of love that’s committed to the test of time.

16 years in…

We know that real life marriage isn’t so much about sweeping each other off our feet as it is about sweeping the kitchen floor.

16 years in…

We’re realistic about the fact that people change. In the beginning, we climbed the ladder in tandem. Now, he continues the climb while she heads down in search of green pastures. The challenge lies not in the climbing up or heading down the ladder, but in the commitment to discovering a safe old oak tree for meeting under at the end of each long day.

16 years in…

We actually know what they meant when they said you’re not just marrying each other, you’re marrying the entire family.

16 years in…

All but one of the grandparents have passed. We honor their legacy, remember we wouldn’t be here without them, and daydream about just one day where we could call grandma over and ask her how she did it with three little ones, six little ones, a husband and household on top of that.

16 years in…

We know flower girls turn into PhD candidates, junior bridesmaids turn into accountants, and junior groomsmen turn into mental health workers. Long nights talking in the dorm room turn into months of phone tag just to hear her voice; years spent working towards the same degree turn into treadmill time hashing over new, grown-up mama-sized dreams. Things happen, man, things happen. What was once an assembled wedding party becomes a whole line of friends and family gone this way and that. Friends divorce, friends remarry, neighbors divorce, neighbors move out. Marriage isn’t for them, marriage is for them. The fragility, the sacred art of relationship is tested and worked out again and again by 16 years, yes 16 years.

16 years in…

We recognize marriage is like music. Some days, you’re desperate to sing your own melody. Most days, it’s better to sing in harmony. And on all days, it’s best to work together, composing each bar, each line in tandem, working towards completion of this song we’ve committed to compose together.

16 years in…

We need our Heavenly Father to make this marriage thing work even more than we’ve ever needed our earthly parents.

16 years in…

We’re familiar with every reality of married life. It’s not easy folks, it’s not easy. Let’s not kid ourselves. We’re human beings and there’s nothing easy about committing to one human being for a lifetime. Kids run wild, dirt and food cover kitchen floors, people run out of underwear because the laundry’s piled up so high, and ya, we disagree on stuff, sometimes big time, like night and day. But we committed, we’ve committed, to this thing called marriage. We’re in it. Those vows? They meant something. Because we love each other. So we live those vows – day, by day, by day, by day. We decide, we’re doing this. We know, this is real love.

16 years in…

We understand marriage isn’t so much about romance as it is about cultivating deep, authentic relationship. Because the most romantic thing there ever could be is one human being understanding, accepting and choosing to love another deeply, faults and all.

16 years in…

We know we’ve changed. We’re not the same we once were.

We’re desperate to nurture, cultivate, love on our marriage, even amidst this crazy, crazy world.

No marriages are perfect, but all are real.

So today, we commit not only to what is real, but to what is possible.

For love covers a multitude of things. Love bears all things. Love hopes all things.

The legacy we dream of is a lifetime together.

So cheers to us and all the married alike. Cheers, to living the dream you dreamed on your wedding day. Cheers, to the legacy of “I do.”

 

Mama was washing breakfast dishes. Tiny princess came down the stairs with a Princess Tiana dress in hand. She’d pulled it down, off the hanger in her closet.

“Put it on mom. Put it on!” said tiny princess.

So mama put the dress on her tiny, tiny princess.

White silk fell off her shoulders. It was too big.

White silk dragged on the ground. It was too long.

Mama had an idea. A shiny green paperclip would do. So she tugged that white silk up at the shoulders, gathered it all together in the back, and pushed it right through that shiny green paperclip.

Tiny, tiny princess was ready to play.

“My pretty princess, mom! My pretty princess!” she exclaimed as she ran around the room, white silk trailing behind.

Tiny princess wanted big brother to see her pretty princess dress. So she grabbed ahold of that white silk,  lifted it up, and began down the stairs to the basement. One step, by one step, by one step and another, tiny princess walked down the stairs to find brother, big brother.

“My pretty princess, brother! My pretty princess!” she exclaimed as she ran around the room, white silk trailing behind.

“Wow, so pretty!” said big brother. “You’re so pretty.”

Then tiny princess grabbed ahold of that white silk, lifted it up, and began back up the stairs to find mama. One step, by one step, by one step and another, tiny princess walked up the stairs to find mama.

“My go outside!” said tiny princess as she headed for the door.

So mama turned the lock and opened the door for tiny, tiny princess. Tiny princess ran to the deck rails and looked through to a field of possibility. Birds chirped, frogs croaked, swans swam, and grasses blew in the breeze.

What was next for tiny princess? What in the world would she do?

Just then, tiny princess saw a red net across the deck. She ran as fast as she could. “My catch frogs!” she said. “My catch frogs!” Tiny princess was brave, tiny princess was bold. She was determined to catch frogs so she grabbed ahold of her white silk pretty princess dress and began down the deck stairs in search of some tiny, tiny frogs.

Just then, mama said “Wait! Wait! I’m still wearing my pajamas. Come! We’ll catch frogs after I’m ready.”

So mama picked up her tiny, tiny princess and carried her all the way upstairs.

Tiny princess got up on mama’s great big bed and waited patiently, soaking in the brave, beautiful and kind princess things Princess Sofia does in the kingdom of Enchancia.

Mama got ready for the day. She pulled her long hair into a ponytail, brushed her teeth until they were sparkly white, and put on her green dress with a ruffle on the top. Mama was ready to go anywhere, ready to do anything with miss tiny, tiny princess.

But before she did anything, mama stopped. She looked at her tiny princess on that great big bed and knew it wasn’t time to go frog hunting, not yet anyway. So mama took a deep breath, stood still in the door frame, and soaked in the moment.

Mama saw the beauty, the treasure, the rare gem that was her tiny, tiny princess. There she was – more beautiful than gold, more precious than silver – one shoulder bare, the other adorned with a flower.

Tiny princess. Beautiful. Precious. Set apart for more than mama could imagine.

Mama bottled the moment in her memory, saved it up for all the years she’d walk alongside her tiny, then not-so-tiny princess. For she loved her daughter so.

In the stillness of the moment, mama pondered the love of her Daddy, her Father who calls her beautiful, precious, set apart for more than she could ever imagine.

And she knew what He’d say…

That’s the way I love you, that’s the way I see you.

Beautiful, tiny princess.

Beautiful.

A tear dropped from mama’s eye.

Mama walked slowly to the bed so as to not disturb the peace that was. She brushed tiny princess’ hair out of her eyes and told her quietly it was time to go.

Mama lifted tiny princess off the bed, took her tiny, tiny hand, and together, they walked all the way down the stairs.

Mama knew it was the perfect time to go frog hunting, so she turned the lock and opened the door for tiny princess. Tiny princess ran to the deck rails and looked through to the field of possibility. Birds chirped, frogs croaked, swans swam, and grasses blew in the breeze – the same way they did earlier that morning.

What was next for mama and her tiny princess? What in the world would they do?

Catch frogs, mama thought, watch grasses blow in the breeze, swans grace water with wings, and birds fly free in song. So off they went. Tiny princess grabbed ahold of her white silk pretty princess dress and began down the deck stairs in search of those tiny, tiny frogs. And mama came alongside, red net in one hand, tiny princess’ hand in the other.

Together, they were brave. Together, they were bold. Together, they were beautiful, tiny princesses.