There was a little girl.
A child of the King.
Not much to look at,
Just a small, gangly thing.
She had many siblings,
Such a great amount,
That her small fingers
Lost track in the count.
This little girl,
The smallest of them all,
Had so much to give the King,
But nothing she thought
Was worth anything.
On Christmas Day the children gathered
To receive their gifts from their Father, the King,
Some got honor, some got glory,
But the Lowliest Princess got nothing.
All the children laughed and played,
With the talents and gifts
The Father had made,
But the Lowliest Princess sat around,
Utterly dismayed.
"Oh, why must I be last?" she cried,
"Oh, why must I be last?" she cried,
Her disappointment
Too visible to hide.
The King sensed His daughter's fears,
Of being the least among her peers.
He came to her one day,
When all her siblings were out at play.
He took her in His arms and she cried,
"Oh, Father, is there nothing in me
That you take pride?"
He held her close,
Knowing her heart broke,
Needing more than just words,
To take her heavy yoke.
She stared into her Father's eyes,
Knowing the King was good and wise.
Then He kissed her little head,
As she clung to his neck,
Being filled with dread.
Then He spoke in a deep, soothing tone,
To help His child not feel so alone.
"My Dearest Child," He started to say,
"Do you not know My Word, My Way?"
Then she chirped up, "Yes, Father, I do.
For everyday we read it together,
Just me and You."
He smiled, "That's true.
Yet still, it lays heavy on your heart
And troubles you."
Then she went on to tell her King,
All the hurt she'd received,
By being nothing.
"Why did you honor them,
With gifts and toys.
Do you not love me too,
Like your other girls and boys?"
"Of course I do, My child, you see,
I have a different course for you,
A greater destiny."
"How can it be greater," she cried,
When I cannot give you honor,
Nor can I give you pride."
I sit around all day,
Doing nothing but existing,
I don't even want to play."
He did not laugh,
For it was not His Way.
He only replied,
"Things do not determine self worth.
Just remember who you are,
And your royal birth.
Tell me, My child, why do you dread,
Of all the thoughts that occupy your head?
If you know My Word and you know they are true,
Then why, dear daughter,
Do your siblings bother you?"
She began to cry out
All her fears,
Not even trying
To muffle her tears.
"But I can dance and I can sing
I can give glory to you, oh, King.
I can draw My Father's eyes,
And share with others
That You are wise
I just think it's unfair to see,
The others reaping rewards
If they are no different from me.
I can give you glory, too.
Won't you please let me
Honor you?"
The Father spoke, "But My child, you do!
I have given you a measure, too.
All the gifts and talents are in place,
Your day will come, I promise.
Just wait."
She looked to the ground, not into His eyes,
But then, too, the King, being all knowing and wise
Spoke up to the girl that clutched His arm
Spoke up to the girl that clutched His arm
To give her comfort to sooth her alarm.
"I understand your fears,
It's not how I see you,
It's the mockings of your peers
You are afraid that they think you low
Because of my outward rewards
Is all that they know.
Do not fret or be afraid,
For my timing is just
Not all My rewards and treasures
I parade.
The greatest glory you can give,
Is not the adorning of metals,
But the kind of life you live.
I give My children the measure of need
Based on their destiny,
Based on their seed
But you are different from the rest,
For your tears reap the rewards
That are the best.
Not one tear falls to the ground
For I store your treasure
In a bottle I've found.
The last shall be first,
In My Kingdom, my dear
So I promise you
Your day is coming
Your day is near.
I promise you, My little girl,
Nothing goes unseen to My eyes
That is why I am the King, Your Father,
Most wise.
So next time when the other's stand in line
To get their honor and glory divine,
Remember My words that stand most true
You are a child of the King,
And I love you."
She took every word that her Father said
Kissed His cheek and went off to bed
And as she cried herself to sleep
She remembered each tear drop
And the harvest someday she'd reap.
Until the day of her reward
The day of great joy
Of being adored
She wrested quietly within her mind
That to be rich in mercy is
A reward of another kind
There would be many days of sadness
Many days of tears
As the parade lay before her
The honor of her peers
Many children stand in line
Some are beautiful
Some are divine
Some are gifted and treated so
Some are given a reason to glow
Some are patted on the back
Given gifts of honor and glory
Without lack
Some are paraded up and down
Knowing they are the best
And greatest in town
But the Lowliest Princess
Had her own kind of pride
The one she saw in her Father's eyes
She might be small, she might be lean,
Never being recognized or visibly seen,
But the Lowliest Princess day after day,
Grew in strength and wisdom in her Father's stay
Forgetting her siblings taunting glare
She was special to the Throne
And treated with care
And one day He would call her a bride
The grandest princess of a Father's pride.
For the Lowliest Princess had her day
When all eyes were on her
A most glorious display
They never again
Would mock her name
Nor mistreat her or bring her
To utter shame
For the Lowliest Bride
Of the Royal Court
Knew Her Father's Words were true
That honor is measured
Not by what you do
But who you are
And how much He loves you.
So never forget this tale I've sown
Nor the lesson one can learn
For these things are not natural
But spiritually discerned.
Remember always your Father's eyes
Sees your tears and hear your cries.
It's not that you're loved less
Or even taken for granted
But our harvest is reaped
With the very seeds planted.
We each are esteemed by our Father's love
Which rewards do you want?
Earthly or from above
Do not fret when you are not recognized
For those who endure
Shall win the prize
Each child is measured by what's inside
The greatest treasures are the ones
That are hidden from pride
The Lowliest Princess
Found out that day
Her Father's love
Wasn't measured our way.
Give God the glory for everything you do
But remember it is not the metals or trophies
That put value on you
It's how much you love and sacrifice
Your whole life through
It's not just a price all are willing to pay,
For the last shall be first,
In the King's court,
Someday.
© ARDITH KAY TOLSON
