And now, here is part 2 of the lessons I learned from The Princess and the Pea: (Part 1)

• 5. When the test is over, the pea is removed and put in a museum, and the princess is free to marry the prince and take her place. I find it interesting that the pea wasn’t just tossed out once it had served its purpose. I wonder if it was put on display as a reminder of what it symbolized. * I don’t think the tests we go through can ever be tossed aside and forgotten. While all the details of our struggle don’t have to be displayed, those victories can be a reminder to us of who God has made us to be, and testimony to others of how God can work through the uncomfortable times.

These last 2 points were revelations I had about a week after the original reading of the story. During a walk with God, I was asking Him what I need to offer up to Him during this season as I begin a course in Christian formation and discipleship, (and for an object to illustrate whatever He spoke.) This story came to mind once again, and these points hit hard. They are related, but here goes:

• 6. The effect of the pea was a lack of sleep. The discomfort and pain the princess felt kept her awake the whole night. It struck me that no sleep usually means no dreams. *This discomfort that I have been feeling has completely stopped me from dreaming in recent months (maybe even years). Recently, I have sensed God inviting me to dream with Him, remind myself of His promises, and allow renewed hope. As God removes this irritant, I feel the freedom to do just that, to dream and hope and get excited about what God is doing more deeply than I have lately.
• 7. And finally, the last point came quickly after number 6. As I started to think about dreams and hopes, something inside started trying to rein in the excitement. It was reminding me that I’ve done all that before, and then the pain came and I stopped. I realized my tendency to return to a place of discomfort to protect myself from the unknowns of dreaming and potential disappointment. In my mind, I saw myself breaking into the museum to get the pea and put it back under the mattresses. At least the discomfort that “pea” represents is one that I’m used to. I’ve learned how to manage it to some degree. It is familiar and seems far less scary than being let down by a dream again.

And so, when it came time to share with my cohort what I was offering to God, I showed them a garden pea. It may not look like much, but surrendering that pain (and vowing not to run back to it when I get nervous) has been huge.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my lessons from The Princess and the Pea. More importantly, I hope you feel encouraged in some way. I would love to hear how God is speaking to you lately.