Letter to a Little Princess
Dear Princess,
Have you ever had an enemy—someone that is mean or tries to hurt you? If you belong to the King of kings, you are promised His great care and protection. Let me tell you what happened to Princess Precious.
The morning had dawned so sunny and bright that Mother Matron said all the little girls could go on a walk.
“I’d like to go down the lane,” Princess Precious said. “May I take Joy down to the corner to see if there are any daffodils blooming?” Mother Matron gave her permission, and so they put on their cheerfulness jackets and went out.
The wind was cold, but the air smelt like spring. “It is fun to go on a walk, just us two,” said Joy, skipping along down the hill. The road was lined with thorn bushes, but here and there some early flowers were growing. Soon the girls had gathered a handful of white snowdrops and purple hyacinth.
“Look, there are the daffodils!” said Precious, as they came to the end of the lane. But just as she was reaching out to pick some, a dirty little boy came around the bushes. He was carrying a thorny stick and was frowning.
“Don’t touch my flowers!” he shrieked when he saw Precious.
Precious was surprised. “Those aren’t your flowers,” she said. “They belong to King Jesus and—”
“I don’t care!” the boy said, swinging his stick. Off popped three bright daffodil heads! But worst of all, the thorns left red scratches on Precious’ hand.
“Oww, that hurt!” she moaned, trying to brush away a tear with her sleeve.
Joy looked at the boy with round eyes. “Why did you break the flowers? You’re a bad boy to make my sister cry,” she said. “Let’s go home.”
Precious was glad to do so. Where had the boy come from and why was he so mean? Precious didn’t feel like asking him. The dirty boy gave her the shivers. She would ask King Jesus when they got back to the palace.
“So he scratched your hand?” King Jesus asked, when she had told him what had happened. Precious nodded and showed him the red marks.
“I didn’t mean to make him mad,” she said. “I only said that they weren’t his flowers. Why did he act so mean?”
“His name is Spiteful and he lives down in the village of Hate,” King Jesus said gently, taking Precious’ hand in His own. “You are my own dear Princess and live in a palace, but he is a miserable boy who has nothing. He acted as he is, spiteful of what others have. But you, my dear, have something much better than that. You have Me.”
The sting had left her hand with his touch, and the red marks were already fading. Precious looked up into the King’s kind face and whispered, “Thank you. I do want to always be your little princess. What shall I do about Spiteful if I see him again? I don’t want him to be my enemy.”
The King smiled. “Leave him to Me. If you are going down the lane again, just ask Valiant to come along. I will give him the charity catapult to use. It is always very good at destroying enemies.” Precious smiled, too. Didn’t the King know the answer to everything? Spiteful didn’t make her afraid anymore. She actually looked forward to meeting him and seeing what would happen.
Can you tell me how King Jesus’ method works?
With much love,
Aunt Faith
