Cinderelly

It's funny how motherhood changes you. In some ways I feel that I have gotten harder in a sense. Things don't bother me as much; I'm not as particular. I never thought the day would come when I could pull off having short hair and not showering and styling it every morning, but that day ended up dawning a while back now. (There is no way I'm going to make myself too fancy when the day involves dishes, laundry, blocks, and searching 17 times for the "other one Barbie" that is needed to go to sleep.) But in so many other ways I am more tender, the tears are closer, and my sense of love is more acute. I suppose this is why we are divinely directed to parent in whatever means our situation allows as it helps us to clear away the clutter of what's not important and focus on what actually is.

I bring this all up because over the past week or so, Evie, true to her love of princesses, has become enchanted with the movie Cinderella. How could she not? It is a classic. So we've watched it several times lately, and I am amazed at how the story pulls at my heartstrings so much more now than it did when I was a child. How I want to cry when she's there washing the floor to the tune of "Sing Sweet Nightingale."

When I watched this movie in the past, I was always the most bothered, of course, by Lucifer, the cat. How could you not be? I mean his name alone heralds his evil role in the whole plot. But what has interested me is that what bothers me most in watching this movie as an adult is not the cat, nor even the step-mother. What has been most difficult to bear is the scene where Cinderella must escape from the ball.

After years of heartache and disappointment and toil, finally, finally she finds a place where she is meant to be. Where she belongs, where she is seen and appreciated for her innately good qualities. As she and the prince sing, "So this is love. So this is love. So this is what makes life divine...and now I know the key to all heaven is mine." It is so beautiful. And then, the clock begins to strike and Cinderella has no choice but to run from this wonderful place.

Do you remember this scene? She runs and the prince begins to panic. "Where are you going? I don't even know your name, how will I find you?!" The music escalates as she dashes to her pumpkin carriage where her coachman frantically waves to her that they must leave. The duke, under orders from the king to make sure this beautiful maiden stays with the prince, begins screaming desperately to close the gates, to keep her inside. Black royal coaches and horses dash forth trying to keep up with the fleeing party and prevent losing the girl who has won the prince's heart. It is a scene of gut-wrenching desperation. She doesn't even make it all the way home before the magic fades, her gown evaporated and turned back to her rags, the pumpkin smashed to pieces by the hooves of royal horses now searching in vain.

As I have watched this scene with Evie a number of times now, and every time felt myself close to tears, I have begun to wonder why about my emotional response and got to pondering. 

And this is what I have realized.

In a sense, each of us here in mortality is like Cinderella. We are meant to take our places with the royal and great. Each one of us merits belonging, recognition, and love. We all are meant to live with the true divine King, our Heavenly Father, who loves us and desires us to make our home with Him. So when we come to that knowledge, when we gain testimonies, when we begin to sense who we really are, it must feel exactly like that scene to our Heavenly Father when we choose to run away who we are meant to be. This is what sinning is. It is making a knowing choice, for whatever reason, to leave safety. To leave home. To leave the security of being in a place of love and acceptance and choosing a path that will lead to loneliness and ruin. The duke, in essence, becomes like the Savior and the voices of the prophets. Don't escape! Close those gates! Stay here where it is safe! Stay here where we need you and want you and recognize you for your innate goodness! 

However, I suppose If Cinderella had just gone to the ball, married the Prince, and never returned to where she had been it wouldn't feel quite so satisfying as the way it really happens. It would have been nice if she could have just escaped, sure. But somehow when you see where she was, and then you see what she could have...why her return to it becomes so much more deplorable. So much more miserable. You become absolutely determined that she must, she MUST return to the palace, for how could she possibly carry on as the servant girl when she so clearly is meant to be a queen? Every time I watch it I still feel frantic as Gus and Jack, the faithful little mice, carry that enormous key up those many flights of stairs. I worry every time that they won't make it. That the duke will leave. That someone else with size 2 feet will get to try on the slipper and it will fit. 

Hence it is beautiful and emotive every time she emerges as the top of the stairs calling, "Your Grace! Please! May I try it on?"

I am grateful for the things I learn each day about repentance and change. How Heavenly Father teaches me in new ways--like through Disney movies!--about why I must cling to the commandments, to the Gospel, to my testimony. It is reassuring to feel that if I ever make mistakes or stray from where I'm meant to be that someone will be looking for me, will call me back, will desire me home. The royal coaches will be sent out after me and someone will try to close the gates in time before all ends in utter sadness. It is wonderful to know too though that if things really don't work out, that the truth will still come knocking and that chances will remain to return to where I am meant to be. 

For this is love. And this is what makes life...divine.