Cinderella: Embracing the Beauty in the Present Moment

The Clock Will Strike Midnight

I remember the first time I heard Steven Curtis’ Chapman’s song, “Cinderella”. (Click the link to listen to the song if you have not heard it previously–the rest will make MUCH more sense–I promise! However, you will want to have tissues nearby–you’ve been warned!) At the time, I couldn’t much relate to the concept of a child growing up and leaving. I was 23 years old and not even engaged to be married.

However, I did know the feeling of time being short. My grandmother had what appeared to be terminal cancer. Grandma had served as “mom” to me for the first year of my life, so we had a very close emotional bond. I was acutely aware that my “dance” with her was coming to an end.

My last meaningful visit with her was a bittersweet day. Brett, my then boyfriend, had proposed to me that morning and took me to the hospital so that I could show my grandmother my new ring. As she called it, I was now “left-handed”.

That day, I had the wisdom to savor that last dance with her, thanking her for all that she had done for me over the years. She responded, “We’ve always taken care of each other.”

Those words were the closure to our beautiful earthly dance, a lesson for me of how to care for others, and a promise of the eternal intertwining of our souls.

Without a Care in the World

The beauty is that, unlike in the storybooks, in our earthly lives as one Cinderella leaves the dancefloor, another enters. And no Cinderella is every truly lost.

It is possible to dance, “without a care in the world,” free from grief, anxiety, and regret. This is the way of life that Christ modeled in the Gospels. Jesus teaches us to live free of worry (Matthew 6:25), knowing that our lives, and the lives of those whom we love, are far more than what we can experience with our physical senses.

Life brings us an abundance of precious moments and memories. The gifts of God are all in the present moment. When we rest in the assurance that God loves us and guides our way, we can dance with joy and confidence.

At my ball, my grandmother exited stage left, and in waltzed two tiny dancers.

A Ball at the Castle

The years flew by. I was now a little past 30, and my former boyfriend-turned-husband and I had two children under the age of 4 to care for. There were nights with little sleep, arguments over parenting strategies, and cacophony and mess 24-7.

Through the exhaustion and tears, we embraced the baby snuggles, giggles, first words and steps, and tenth consecutive reading of Little Blue Truck. The transient nature of life brought me back to the present. I treasured every moment, even the difficult ones. When I heard Chapman’s words during these years, I brought myself back to the present, to the quickly growing treasures in our arms.

While He is Here in My Arms

Sometimes the Cinderellas, the moments and souls to treasure, aren’t the ones we expect.

The night before Thanksgiving a year ago, I was told while out on a walk that my husband would soon leave this world (hard to explain how–I cannnot easily put the spiritual communication I received into words). I wasn’t told when, just that it would be sometime in the next few years. That night, I hugged Brett hard, unwilling yet to tell him what I knew, but unwilling to miss any chance to treasure time with him.

In the coming months, his health detiorated. Life became physically demanding and emotionally draining. When he was hospitalized in April, I was by his side round the clock, even sharing the hospital bed when he was at his worst and needed me there. A few nurses were amazed by my willingness to be there day in and day out. However, to me, I was dancing with Cinderella. I didn’t know how much longer he would be in my arms and I wanted to cherish every moment.

If the Steven Curtis Chapman song and this post didn’t make you cry hard enough, I recommend the “classic” (popular when I was younger anyway ;)) movie, A Walk to Remember. At the end of the film, the male lead, Landon, says of his then young wife,

Jamie and I had a perfect summer together with more love than most people know in a lifetime. And then she went with her unfailing faith.

A Walk to Remember

This was Brett and my experience the summer of 2021. It was indeed beautiful. When he passed at the end of August, we had danced our hearts out. I lived in the moment that summer, treasuring every second with my husband, not knowing how much longer we would have together.

I Don’t Want to Miss Even One Song

Every stage in life has a “Cinderella” moment. For now, I am treasuring the precious moments with my school-aged sons and my still rather young (mid-60’s) parents.

My father, the boys, and I have a 2 week trip through the Shenandoah Valley planned for this summer. My two sons and I are going snowboarding, rock-climbing (indoor), and BMXing on weekends this school year. Weeknights are spent running circles around the house cackling like banshees or out in the yard tossing the football or baseball.

I might remarry one day, when the boys are older, but right now, I don’t want to miss out on “one song” of this beautiful adventure.

I Know Something the Prince Never Knew

Whenever I hear Chapman’s song, I cry. I can’t help it. However, they aren’t tears of sadness. They are tears of joy and gratitude. I’m immensely grateful for the last dance I had with my grandmother, the baby giggles I had the wisdom to capture in my memory, the feeling of my husband in my arms, and the look of joy on the faces of my sons or in the eyes of my parents or in-laws when we are embracing all that life offers together.

But I also know something the prince never knew, and that maybe even Chapman didn’t consider when writing this song. Though we will never dance the same dance twice, the dance doesn’t end. Rather, it changes.

My grandmother, after her passing, came to me at least twice (that I can remember) but many more times to my husband, usually to give me a message because, at the time, I was too spiritually dense (or shallow?) to receive them. Years after she passed, through my husband’s visions, she introduced me to gardening and connected me back to nature. My husband, after his passing, has popped in to my dreams and times of meditation to give random parenting advice or life wisdom. Finally, though our boys aren’t in diapers anymore (thank goodness!), their souls are still with us in bigger, ever-changing bodies. The relationships just evolve.

And I’m Sitting Here Wearing the Weight of the World on My Shoulders

Ultimately, the big takeaway comes in the first verse of the song. Here is the dad, carrying the weight of “the world” on his shoulders, while his little girl is asking him to treasure the present moment with her.

Frankly, the world doesn’t matter. It can almost always be set aside and needs to be if we are to allow the Spirit of God to live and move within us. As Jesus warns us (Matthew 6:24-25), we can’t serve two masters. Christ, like the daughter in the song, begs us, in every present moment, to dance with him. In Matthew 11:30, Jesus lovingly reminds us that his “yoke”, the dance, is easy and light.

So, today, dance with God. Not in sadness, wondering when the moment will end, or in hope of some better future time, but in freedom and joy, confident that God is present in every “now” moment. All that is real can never be lost, but rather only changes form. So go dance, laugh, and be joyful. Enjoy every song.