The Other Glass Slipper

A lesser known fact about me is that I cut my teeth on Disney movies. Hardly a year when by, and I was escorted by my hip Aunt Margy to the theaters on opening weekend to buy a small popcorn, a small cherry coke, and a ticket to Neverland, Prideland Rock, or Agrabah. It is safe to say, tucked under my belt is a wealth of knowledge regarding movie details - characters, plots, and the oh-so-singable songs. Sing with me, now "I wanna be where the people are... I wanna see, wanna see them dancing...

Considering a long resume of Disney film viewings, I assumed I had most of the movies memorized. The songs most certainly help wit that. This assumption was proved incorrect, however, the last time I watched Cinderella again. I caught an aspect of the plot that never seemed of significance to me.

At a particular point in the story, Cinderella has just escaped from being locked her in room to come present herself to the Grand Duke. Previously, to both his dismay and the dismay of the evil stepmother, the glass slipper failed to fit either of Cinderella's ridiculous stepsisters. Now, this was the young, mistreated girl's chance. Because, of course, her feet were made to fit the slipper. So, as they all settle into the surprise of her entry into the room, the Grand Duke moves to fit the slipper on Cinderella's feet. In a moment of pure hatred, her God-awful stepmother trips the man and the glass slipper falls and shatters in the midst of the crowd. A dream that should have been Cinderella's alone appears, atleast to those viewing, to have slipped away and been utterly destroyed. And here is where I forgot what happens next. Or perhaps, did not see the need to remember the way I do now.

At a moment of sheer ruin, Cinderella reaches behind her apron and pulls out the other matching slipper. She had it all along. It was her's and there was little to argue with that. In fact, it was the one thing left to her after the spell had been broken at midnight, the night of the ball; the dress and even the mice-turned-horse-drawn pumpkin carriage lasted but an evening. But the slipper remained.

I think this part of the story, and the story as a whole, speaks a great deal to the theme of becoming or being beautiful. There exists a beauty given to each of us that may indeed fit a role in this world, whether vocational or relational, but nonetheless lives in us and is innately ours, though we often forget. And this beauty is often expressed or displayed outwardly, hopefully to brighten and inspire the lives of those around us. It is fragile, though. Beauty, at times, seems to fall and crash before our eyes like that very same glass slipper - taken from us in moment of greatest need. Because of our world, our culture, and the hand of the enemy in both, we are left to believe that in a moment of pain, of failure, of fear, or of attack - that it is gone and that all dreams completely destroyed.
But that is just not so. Because nestled somewhere deep, whether in folds of an apron or of our hearts, is the other glass slipper - the beauty that is ours, that fits each of us uniquely, and that inspires dreams that only God can make come true its revealing.