A Tale of Two Daughters
By Wayne Harmon
Once upon a time there was a very wealthy man who had twin daughters. They meant everything to him. He lavished them with beautiful clothes and jewels, because he loved them so much. They were special to him, because they were his children.
Whenever he gave them beautiful gifts, they would squeal with delight, clutch them to their hearts, and climb into his lap, seeing their value to him through the gifts. At those times they would have been as excited were the presents merely a box of pine cones. The thrill wasn’t in the gift. It was in the giver.
As they grew older they began asking for specific things. Their father gladly gave them these things. He was excited that he knew which specific gifts they desired.
But one day the girls lost sight of the fact that they were special to their father because they were his children. They saw their father’s gifts as things they deserved. They stopped seeing the giver and only saw the gift. At this point their requests became demands.
Their reasoning was that they should look like the daughters of a wealthy man. Wasn’t it a reflection on him if they weren’t wearing the latest fashions or driving new cars? They convinced themselves that they were actually doing this for his benefit. After all, if they looked good, then Daddy looked good. Right?
The father realized that his gifts, which he loved giving them, were beginning to harm his daughters. Instead of climbing into his lap, they ran off to play with their new possessions. As soon as they tired of them, they returned only to make more demands.
Whenever their father either denied or delayed their demands, they tried to manipulate him into acquiescing to their wills.
“As your children we deserve to have new cars!”
“If you really loved us you would buy us new dresses. You can afford it!”
And so on, and so on, and so on.
Each new gift increased the distance between them, so he stopped, because he loved them.
At this point the twins diverged into two different daughters: The Little Princess and The Spoiled Brat.
The Little Princess realized what had happened. She saw that she had replaced the giver with the gifts. She realized that she really did love her father more than the things he gave her. She didn’t want stuff. She wanted her daddy.
She went to her room and pulled out every gift he had ever given her. One by one she held them and remembered the day she received it. She saw her father’s smile. She listened to his heartbeat as she sat in his lap. She saw herself anew through his eyes.
Broken, she gave her father a gift. She gave him herself!
Her father hugged her and held her so tightly that she was at first embarrassed.
“Dad! My friends are watching!”
He didn’t let go. Then she stopped protesting as she felt every ounce of his love emanating from his heart into hers. At last she understood! She was special, because she was his child!
Sadly, The Spoiled Brat chose another road.
Since she could no longer receive her indulgences from her father, she looked elsewhere.
She soon found other men who would buy her the nice things she desired. Once again she was wearing the latest fashions and beautiful jewelry. She was driving new cars and traveling to exotic locations. Unlike her boring sister, it was she who was The Little Princess, and she had the possessions to prove it!
Alas! [it wouldn’t be a real fairy tale with at least one “alas”] Too late did she realize that unlike her father’s unconditional love, the love of her new men was very much conditional. And those conditions ate away at her very soul, until there was nothing left. She was used up. And when she was completely spent, those men, who lavished her with the beautiful gifts she so deeply desired, discarded her.
Now, if this was an old-fashioned Sunday School morality tale of good and bad little girls, the story would end here. But this isn’t a story of a Little Princess and a Spoiled Brat. It is the story of a father; a real father, and the tale doesn’t end here.
You see, along with the death of The Spoiled Brat’s dignity and beauty, her pride also died.
Using her last few dollars, wearing nothing but a pair of torn jeans and a faded Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt, she returned to her father’s house. He was an old man now. He had long since turned over the family business to The Little Princess. He spent his days in his rocking chair on the front porch … just watching.
As The Spoiled Brat exited the taxi in front of his house, he froze in his rocking chair. Could it be? Yes! It was! His daughter had come home!
Broken, she gave her father a gift. She gave him herself!
Her father hugged her and held her so tightly that she was at first embarrassed.
“Dad! The Little Princess is watching!”
He didn’t let go. Then she stopped protesting as she felt every ounce of his love emanating from his heart into hers. At last she understood! She was special, because she was his child!
The Little Princess joined the hug. Her sister was home! They were, after so many years and sleepless nights, a family again!
Once again there was a very wealthy man who had twin daughters. They meant everything to him. He lavished them with beautiful clothes and jewels, because he loved them so much. They were special to him, because they were his children.
Copyright 2015: Wayne Harmon