Praying a Fairy Tale

or, turning to wonder

Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

Have you ever prayed a fairy tale?

I don’t mean offering holy sacrifices to fictional dragons or studying dark magic in shadowy rooms or even elevating to the rank of sacred scripture the words of J.R.R. Tolkien—though on the last, an argument might be made, and I might be inclined to listen.

No, rather:

I wonder if you’ve stepped out into the world enchanted by possibility, by potential, by powers beyond your own understanding.

I wonder if you’ve looked for the sudden and the dramatic, swooping down through mystical intercession, intervention unlooked for and unexpected but gladly welcomed.

I wonder if you’ve seen the glimmer of the world, that veil that gently covers all of creation, and called it grace.

I wonder if you’ve seen the smallness of yourself, the seemingly inconsequential nature of your own collection of events and experiences, and yet realized all the same the essential adventure you’ve been tasked with completing.

I wonder if you’ve allowed yourself to be surprised and overcome by the singular beauty of each and every thing, its utter uniqueness, and the unsettling fact that each and every singular thing points beyond itself, deeper into the well of creation and out and beyond the horizon of understanding.

I wonder if you’ve gotten lost in your own imagination, dreaming up possible endings that are happy, though tinged with the sadness of knowing you’ve passed through one chapter and will never again return to this well-known shore.

I wonder if you give thanks for surprises, for the ongoing opportunity to be whisked away on an adventure, pulled and prodded and pat on the back, mindful always that there is more at work in this world than we can ever know.

Because that’s the world of fairies: one in which we each carry the burden of our own stories, yet are always prepared to be pleasantly surprised by the intervention of powers beyond our knowing.