Princesses in Disguise - Part 16

The princess who has found the secret of Surprise has found the secret to joy and peace. She is confident because she is entirely open to God's will. For her life is an adventure, and her waiting is tempered with a great anticipation. She believes that her prince will come around the bend someday; but she doesn't know what he'll be like – beyond certain obvious traits, such as devotion to God, maturity, responsibility, and such, which will be necessary if he's to make a good husband and father.

She expects nothing, because she wants to be surprised.

In Chesterton's play of that name – The Surprise – the King is to be married to the Princess Christina, for he promised to make her his wife when he was young. His heart, however, belongs to the lady Maria. Nevertheless, he goes to the altar to fulfill his promise and marry the Princess. After the ceremony is performed he lifts the veil from her face and sees that it is Maria, his beloved, who is his wife. He gives a great cry, and the Princess, who has remained behind after switching places with Maria, says: "That is the cry that has not been heard on earth since it was heard in Eden. It is the cry of Surprise."

The girl who has planned out the entire course of her romance without the input of one of the principal players – her man – sets herself up for disappointment, because chances are she never will meet the man who lives up to her many and detailed expectations. And even in the event that she does find that man, it was only what she expected.

The girl who believes in the Surprise wants both to give and hear that cry of Eden. The King in the play removed the veil from his bride and saw that she was not the woman he expected, but the woman he loved. When the prince rides up to her tower the princess does not want to see the man she expected, but the man she loves. She doesn't want the experience to be routine, but so astonishing that she is always full of wonder and gratitude.

This isn't to say that she has no expectations whatsoever. Both for her own sake and for his she must have very high standards. But there is, I think it will be acknowledged, a difference between standards and whims. There is a difference between saying: "He must be a Catholic," and saying: "He must be familiar with Mozart." There is a difference between saying that he must be capable of caring for a family and saying that he must be capable of dancing quite beautifully.

Standards are a necessity. The princess is too precious to give herself to just any man that happens to come along. She respects him too much to make it too easy. This will be addressed more fully later.

Whims are no more than that, though. They change often. I know this from personal experience. I had all sorts of ideas about what my man would be like as a young teenager. That picture looked different every year. And I decided eventually that it was nonsensical, and that I didn't want to build my vision of marriage on that. I didn't want a man who was everything I wanted and nothing of himself. Not only did I want to be surprised by him in himself, but I wanted to be surprised by everything that he knew that I didn't. I wanted to be grateful for every way in which he differed from me. I wanted him to introduce me to things that I knew nothing about, and I wanted to have the immense joy and pleasure of sharing my loves with him. If he didn't know how to dance, very well; we'd have ever so many delightful evenings dedicated to that. And whatever he knew that I didn't, I would learn, and so many new and wonderful things would be opened to me.

And that is where I stand now: waiting, with high standards but no whims. I expect nothing. I expect nothing not to avoid disappointment, but I wait in hope and anticipation, and when I go out on my tower balcony to watch that road for a few moments, I murmur Chesterton's words softly to myself: "Blessed are they that expecteth nothing, for they shall be gloriously surprised."

I want and wait for the Surprise.