Living in a Fairytale

I don't live a fairytale life. That's how I was going to begin this post, but then I stopped to think about it. I actually do live a fairytale sometimes, just not the Disneyfied fairygodmothers and sparkles kind... rather its more the three-tests-to-prove-your-worth-to-the-untrustworthy-king-and-a-couple-of-missing-limbs-to-boot kind.

The heroes in those stories were celebrated for their ordinary acts of bravery, rewarded for being kind, selfless, and just. They gave their last drinks of water to old beggar women, without thought of themselves. They were willing to sacrifice comfort for what was right, and didn't expect anything in return. And they were joyful. They sang songs, told stories, and brought the sun. They loved well. They were loved, though maybe not by all, as the wicked are bound to only love themselves in these tales.
I think about my Work in these terms sometimes. I think about how I feel burdened with purpose for what I call my career. Once upon a time, it started out that a naïve little highschool junior though t that if she must work, she'd like to work with books. Now she sits at the counter of a Wednesday night and delivers passionate rants to her housemates about flaws in the system, about her firm belief in the servanthood of being a librarian, and how she wishes more people thought that way.

You see, I have the opportunity to be that  fairytale heroine on a daily basis. To be gentle, and loving, and life-affirming, and kind. I never know when the child I serve may need my careful listening ear, or the patron whose resume I helped with needs encouragement in their job search.
In the laws of my fairytale land, I'm not allowed to speak openly of my King, but just because I can speak, doesn't mean I can't serve in His name.
The Fairytale as I've called it is only a mindset, imagined to help me understand, but the Kingdom I work to further is very real.

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