"There is a lighted runway from the back of your mind to the front. Who would like to come forward and speak?" G began our session yesterday with this invitation. Last time we dealt with the first two lies, the ones Daddy told us: "It's all right," and "You like it." Now G was inviting to the "place of blessing (and executive control)" whoever held the next lie we had believed, chronologically.
Again we all waited. I could see the runway, not a runway for airplanes but for models. Lights high up in a ceiling we couldn't see were focused on it, the long, narrow walk from the dimness obscuring a group of me to dimness obscuring the huge room full of people surrounding us. Rows and rows of people, attentive and affirming.
Now I could see a small figure start down the strip of light. From my vantage point above and to one side, the little girl seemed to be about an inch tall. She was wearing a simple loose shiny white dress with a scoop neckline, sleeveless, falling straight to the tops of her sandals. It was a little too big for her. She came forward slowly but without hesitation.
I described her to G.
"Which one is she?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe Melissa? Or Jenny. White is her color."
"Ask Jesus to give her a name, if she wants one."
But instinctively I knew she already had a name. I asked Jesus who she was. And he said, "Original self."
I told G, adding, "so her name must be Jessica but He didn't say so."
As I continued to watch through my mind's eye, this little person kept coming down the long walkway, all alone, not shy, not self-conscious, not awkward, not nervous, though she knew thousands of eyes were on her.
"I think she likes the attention," I said. Immediately I realized she was not enjoying the attention as one swelled up with pride by it. She was not seeking the limelight.
Instead, she knew it was her turn and she walked steadily forward in awe that she was getting attention, that all those unseen eyes were watching her with approval, even delight. Awed that she mattered.
G was talking but I hardly heard him. She had reached the end of the runway and as she did darkness swallowed it up as the light moved closer, singling her out. A crown appeared on her head and a wand in her hand.
"Clothed in robes of righteousness, a royal princess, the daughter of the King," G gushed.
But it wasn't that. It wasn't that at all. She was not that ambitious. The crown was a cheap paste crown and the wand with its star glued to the end was something from a department store. They were something which would enchant a little girl standing on the sidewalk, her hand in her daddy's, gazing in a toy store window. The daddy would follow her gaze, take her in and buy them for her. When they got home he would help pull the plain white dress of some shiny material that wasn't real satin over her head. He would kiss the top of her head gently and adjust the crown for her. He would hand her the wand and take her other hand and kiss it and bow and swirl her around and tell her she was beautiful. He would treat her like a princess.
And that would be enough. Just to be like other little girls, dressing up and being treated like princesses by their daddies. The world of ermine and diamonds and titles and elegance was not a world she knew or cared about. Her world was the wonder of just being alive. I matter. That was the truth that shattered the third, unvoiced lie.
The audience had faded, silently moved away, and it was all right. The other, partial selves were still back by the curtains and that was all right, too. Rainbows of light were playing across her white dress now and it sparkled. She was too full of joy to notice.
Little girl things. As if through bars, wistfully, she had watched other girls busy with toys. Now it was her turn. She could have normal little girl things too, just like them.
"This is her coming-out party," G said. "She's been in a closet and hidden. She has been sheltered from the storm. She has innocence."
Yes.
Prodded by the Lord I said now, "My name is Jessica Reynolds."
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