Fairy tales are to girls what big truck shows are to boys … they grab their attention from beginning to end, they amaze the viewer and make them think 
that what they see and hear is actually attainable reality … it is not.
Fairy tales are just that, they are the tales, or stories, that include imaginary characters such as fairies, or dwarfs, or talking mice, or flying carpets. They are, from their very name, made up stories, full of made up characters, and made up endings.
If I were to write a fairy tale it would be different, and probably not as widely read, or made into a major motion picture. Little girls would not wear t-shirts of the princess, or have her coloring book, night lights and video games. No, the ‘fairy’ parts would be absent. But, the ending would, in all honesty, be better than any starry-eyed little girl could ever imagine.
Here is my version (we will call it the Carole’s Notes Version):
Once upon a time …
In a land not too far away, lived a young woman with many dreams in her head. She dreamed of her future every day, and went to the King daily to ask him to lead her in the direction he had for her, and for the strength to do all that she needed to do in order to fulfill those dreams. She knew that the fulfillment of her dreams was reliant on her, and her trust in the wisdom of the King. She knew that she would have to work hard, stay focused and not expect for her dreams to just fall into her lap.
She knew that her goals could only be obtained by first getting a good education, so she studied her best and worked at her school work as if it were her job.
This princess was one who worked hard at all that she did, but she also played hard, knew how to have fun and how to relax.
She also knew that her goals could not be obtained without the support of good friends … girl friends and boy friends. These relationships would be chosen ones, ones that encouraged her to be a better person, as well as relationships of sharing the experiences of growing up. Romance was not in the cards for her at this point in her life, because she knew that it would only serve to divert her attention from the goals set out for her by her own mind, and by the King.
The princess made efforts to be helpful and kind to those around her. She tried to treat others fairly and with mercy. She acknowledged that she was given much in her life, and she needed to share what she had with others.
Throughout her life, the princess pursued her dreams, and relied on the King, but doing good and living right did not always prevent bad, disappointing and sad things from happening in her life. When she was just a young woman her mother died. She did eventually meet a Prince of a man, and marry him, and they shared a deep love, but marriage, she found was not an easy thing, and there were times when she wished she had not married him (and times when she could tell her prince wished the same of his marriage to her). There were times when the pressures of paying the bills for their castle small house just about smothered the princess. The couple had children who they loved, but who did not always look, act or smell nice.
Life was not happily ever after for the princess, despite her best efforts at living well, but she did live a life of joy, always thanking the king for all that she had.
When she reached her later years, she was still seeking the wisdom of the King every day. He was the focus of her days, He was the anchor that kept her where she was, and heading in the same direction. He was her focus …
And when she was breathing her last, she heard the voice of the King whisper into her soul, “well done, good and faithful servant, come and share your King’s happiness” (Matthew 25:23) … and there, in that kingdom, she lived, happily ever after.
There is a sense of longing that comes as I realize that I am no longer a mom to ‘babies’ or even ‘children’. Oh, I am still a mom to minors, but my minors have all reached the edge of the abyss known as adolescence. And this edge is where I say farewell to a part of my life, that has been all-consumingly present for over eighteen years. My adolescent kids have all reached the stage of not needing me.
Our youngest is almost twelve, and, although in private he will still hug me, and give and receive ‘I love you’s’, he is ‘moving on’ through the doorway to his teens, to be followed by adulthood. And, I have to say, it makes me feel a little sad, a little lonely, a lot … unneeded (and I need to feel needed).
I am getting old. I know this because when I look at magazine cover, I see youthful actresses in movies, I see lovely ladies advertise (usually their online ‘chat’ business) on television, and I turn away. And I turn away because I am past the ability to look as they do (and I do not have access to the air brushing that they do). I have come to the conclusion that even if I lost fifty (or eighty) pounds, even if my body was worked into a state of rock hard, even if I did everything possible (short of plastic surgery) I am beyond the ability to be the definition of what the world says is beautiful. Because I do not have the most important defining feature of beauty … youth.
As I am starting to get cozy with being in my forties, I am starting to see 
the world so differently. I am starting to see, and expand the definition of beauty differently.
does not walk confidently, shoulders back with her head high. There has to be something in that woman that says, ‘I am approachable’. There has to be something 
in her appearance that communicates to all around, that she is comfortable in her own skin, for those around to look at her and say, ‘she is beautiful’.
confident head held high, that she is approachable, and that she is 
comfortable in her skin and something within us says ‘she is a beauty?’
beholder, and what the discriminating beholder sees most clearly is not the passing glance beauty, but the inner qualities of grace and confidence and openness.
When one is convicted by God, it is clear … unless you feel really uncomfortable with the lesson God has for you, then the instinct to flee and forget is greatest.
Sometimes what I write is because I so desire to share what I am learning. Sometimes what I write is my attempt to put a positive spin on something that is negative, or to speak of joy in the mourning, in the pain, in the bad news or the discouraging. Much of the time what I write is because I know that if I have heard, seen, felt or experienced something, others have too.
I grew up on the east coast of Canada, with rolling hills, spectacularly colourful autumn foliage and green, lush valleys.
You are the one that reminds me how old I am, how long since I could sleep late into the day, how long I have been called mama, mom, mummy.
itsawonderfilledlife 