Multitude Mondays: How To Dance With Frogs While you Wait for Your Prince

“A princess in pink?” I asked with a knowing wink. 

Her lips curled into a grin as flipped her pink tutu and remembered the fairytale..

 that marvelous story about the princess and the frog who is really a prince after all….

 

And the one little kiss that changed everything!

 

I knew what she was going to do before she bent her head low and puckered those rosy lips. 

 

But I didn’t know what would happen when her tale took a different turn that the one that sits in our bookshelf at home. 

 

 

 

She planted a tiny kiss between that frog’s beady eyes and then squeezed her own baby blues closed and waited in wordless anticipation.

 

“Mommy? Does he look like a prince yet?”

 

I mumbled something about patience and maybe it was time to go feed the goats,  and she opened her eyes and slid off her sitting spot to inspect the situation for herself. 

 

She poked at the frog’s bumpy back just to be sure it hadn’t suddenly turned to flesh.

 

 

Then she patted the head of that could-be-prince and offered him one more smooch.

 

 A real lip smacker complete with a dollop of drool and a smudge of stickiness.

 

She counted out loud like her brothers and sisters do when they play hide-and-go-seek.

And she watched as if any moment that fairytale prince might pop out of the old frog’s emerald coat and present himself with a royal bow. 

Four… five… six…

She ceased hopping and clasped her hands together in silent prayer.

Seven….eight…nine…ten….

The frog remained crouched in speechless sameness. 

Finally, my kisser stopped counting, planted a hand on her hip in dramatic disgust and stared at that bumpy green reality.

I braced myself for tears and tantrums, tugged at her arm in hopes of leaving before the inevitable toddler melt-down.

But she shook herself free from my grasp and shrugged her slender shoulders in a rare gesture of acceptance. 

“ I guess I’ll just have to dance with a frog.”

With a flap of her arms and a stretch of her toes, my princess raised her body heavenward in a graceful  flourish and began to hum a happy tune.

She cast that ugly frog a mischievous grin and began to whirl upon the dirty cement as if she were cascading across a shimmering dance floor at the royal ball.

She twirled.
And swiveled. 
And spun. 

And suddenly, I saw it clearly- why the King invites our sacrifice of praise. 
Why He asks us to give thanks even when our frogs don’t turn into princes. 

Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name -Hebrews 13:15

Isn’t this how gratitude fuels our daily waltz? 

Spins us into joy even when our dreams are broken and our hearts are heavy.

When we pirouette in praise,  we discover the rhythm of grace.

Ears once deaf  hear the music of mercy. 
Toes once still tap out the tempo of thanks. 

She began counting under her breath, numbering her steps as she spun faster and faster across the pavement. 

And I realized it once again- how the  counting changes us. 

When we count all as grace–the frogs and the princes, the ugly and the beautiful–it changes the dance. 

Perhaps more importantly, it changes the dancer.  

Even when our wishes don’t come true… 
When our prayers go unanswered…. 
When we ask for a prince but find ourselves face to face with a frog…
Even then; especially then, when we count grace, we dance with hope. 

Because we know that one day our Prince will really come.

One day His kiss will turn our bumpy lives into something beautiful.

And He’ll invite us to dance with Him forever at the foot of the King’s glorious throne. 

My pretty pink princess finished with a curtsey, and I found myself wishing I’d joined her before the dance was done. 

After all, why wait ’til life is perfect to pirouette?

I might as well start twirling here and now,
spinning words of thanks in the midst of all these frogs. 

The Overflow:  I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God…On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:  king of kings and lord of lords. -Rev 19:11-13, 16

Grateful for these gifts, frogs and all….


1385. Little People houses strewn across the living room- a whole neighborhood of plastic people set up on the kitchen floor… no room for cooking supper because of the creative stories being cooked up by the girls!

1386. Forgotten Hot Wheels tracks for tripping on in the middle of the night- proof of my little boy’s lazy afternoon of play.

1387.  Ten kindergarten soccer stars giving me hugs on the sideline while they wait for the game to begin.

1388. Launching a new children’s ministry year- the Word brought to life- hope for all of us!

1389. Laundry piled high on the couch– at least it’s clean 🙂 

1390. A beach photo shoot at sunset with my Bible study girls… giggles, poses, praises. Precious.

1391. 9 kids gathered around the table on Friday night eating tacos- NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!— and laughter and snorting and story-telling!

1392.  A long bike ride along the lake with my boys- signs of autumn everywhere.

1393. Joshua skipping rocks as I watch the sun sink over the bedazzling blue. “Mommy? Do you feel happy just watching me?”

1394. Joshua’s plan to infest his playground with joy–“Mom, if my joy is overflowing, then I’ll leave all kinds of joy puddles for other kids to step in. Then they’ll just feel joyful, too. And they won’t even know why!”

1395. Garbage trucks

1396. Sticky dishes that need to be scrubbed once the kids are finally tucked in bed… proof that our tummies are full and our needs are met.

1397. A white chocolate raspberry scone and a cup of flavored joe…. savored in my mom’s kitchen while the morning sun streams in. 

1398. A kitchen counter covered with brown sugar clumps, chocolate chips, and butter smears…. the girls have been baking cookies again 🙂

1399. Lizzy twirling Maggie in an impromptu kitchen floor ballet performance.

1400. Hannah’s fervent prayers for Baby Mercy, the orphan we’ve been privileged to pray for each day. 

Linking again in community with Ann and these lovely grace seekers:  l.l. for on, in, and around mondays, laura for playdates with god, ruth at the better mom, and jen for soli deo gloria