A Children’s Story for our beloved PANDAS Princesses

This is a retro post…from something I wrote in 2012, Pre-PANDAS, and haven’t touched since.  When I read it now, it has a whole new meaning for me in light of PANDAS disease….our princess woke up one day, and she was a different child.  And it broke our hearts.

Now I tell our daughter’s that no matter what they do, we will ALWAYS love them.  And that is the way our Father loves us.

Maybe I should dust this off and do something with it.  Or maybe sharing it with you is enough.  Either way, I hope it blesses you….

Without further Ado…

This is the story of a Princess, it’s true,

but this Princess was actually quite a lot like you.

She tried to be good, most of the time anyway

and only threw tantrums once or twice a day.

She lived in a castle as most princesses do,

surrounded by toys, even her very own zoo.

Her Daddy’s love for her was never in doubt,

but he’d been away at war so long

Princess Hazel was beginning to act out.


Of course life would have gone on in its usual way

if this princess had only learned how to listen and obey.

The day started out fine, but Hazel was bored

she started to fuss, and time-outs she ignored.

Mother looked at her sternly and said with a frown

“We all do our part, even those with a crown!

Princess or not, all your chores must be done

before you can go out and have any fun!”

“What, no fun?” The Princess rebelled!

She pouted, she fussed, she kicked and she yelled.

No matter how loud or how shrill her tirade

still no one came to the Princess’s aid.

“That’s it. I’m done! They can’t treat me this way!

They’ll all be sorry when I’ve run away!”

A princess, of course, is always well dressed

with closets full of clothes, the finest and the best.

Sneaking out to the stables in velvet and furs,

she saddled her mare and put on her spurs.

Not leaving a note, not saying goodbye,

with no thought of her mother

or the tears she would cry,

the Princess rode nimbly on through the trees,

until at long last she could smell the sea breeze.

“Freedom at last!” she thought with a laugh

as she came to the gate hidden in the path.

And then she was free to do whatever she pleased,

with no one to tell her to eat all her peas.


Now was her chance for the life she’d been craving,

no longer would she have to do all that behaving.

Princess Hazel rode on, pell mell, down the street

until she came to a place not quite so elite.

The people were dirty, their houses not nice

in fact she was sure these kids all had lice.

But just when the Princess was about to retreat

her gaze fell upon a small boy named Pete.

His eyes, they were teary, his nose always sneezing

on this cold winter’s day, what kept him from freezing?

Without even a coat, or shoes on his feet

no wonder he’s sick, poor, dirty little Pete.

The Princess’s heart just broke at the sight

of a boy dressed in rags and in such a fright.


An orphan, no doubt, with no one to care

if his nose is all snotty or he brushes his hair.

The Princess, she sniffled, and wiped away a tear

with her fancy kid gloves no worse for the wear.

“Ah ha! That’s it!” She knew then in her heart

how she could help give this boy a head start.

She took off her gloves and gave them to Pete,

surely he could trade them for something to eat.

He thanked her and smiled, a smile of pure gold

and off rode the Princess, on down the road.


Princess Hazel rode on, forgetting the cold

until she came upon a woman so old

that wrinkles were etched deep in her face

like canyons and rivers but still there was grace.

She sat in the square, in spite of her age

selling hankies for pennies, her only wage.

The woman worked hard, this work was her art

that no one was buying just broke Hazel’s heart.

She reached in her purse, pulling out all her gold

and placed it in the hands of the woman, so old.

“In trade for the hankie, with flowers and birds.”

The princess bade farewell, without any more words

but the old woman cried, as a single tear fell,

“That girl is a princess, anyone could tell!”


With a purse so much lighter, the Princess rode on

joy filling her heart, though her money was gone.

It wasn’t until she smelled hot apple pie

that her stomache began to give out a cry.

Now, the feeling of hunger was something quite new

to a Princess who rarely even said “Thank you”.

She’d never given a thought to who made the food

that was catered to fit her whim and her mood.

So she didn’t feel rude, not in the least

when she walked up to the cottage

and demanded a feast.

The woman who answered, she wore only rags

and the babe on her hip cried in hiccups and jags.

Bewildered the woman said, “This is our last meal.

but you’re welcome to it, we’ll share it with zeal.”

The Princess, ashamed, realized her mistake

alas, it would seem it was too little too late.

She had no more gold, what else could she give?

The woman before her was barely a girl…

no more than her size, and so with a whirl

the princess exchanged her furs and her dress

for the poor mother’s clothes, which fit, more or less.


The princess rode on, now dressed as a peasant

but soon stopped short at a sight quite unpleasant.

A man walked before her, her Father’s own soldier

wounded in battle, he’d soon die from exposure.

She pulled her horse short, looked into his eyes,

blue eyes, like her Father’s, not one of them dry.

His tears for his family pulled at her heart

and she knew deep inside that she surely must part

with her dearly loved mare, the horse she was given

on the day she turned ten, or was it eleven?

Princess Hazel dismounted with an awkward leap,

said goodbye to her friend and tried hard not to weep.

Giving reigns to the soldier, she turned slowly to go

when he stopped her gently and bowed ever so low.

“My lady, I thank you, with all of my soul.

You may be a peasant, but the Lord sent you, I know.”


Princess Hazel watched sadly as they rode off together,

the soldier and her horse were soon gone forever.

It had been quite a day, and now she was alone

no money, no horse, and her hair all wind blown.

She realized suddenly, she was in quite a pickle…

miles from her home, without even a nickle.

Why, what if she got home and they didn’t let her in!

She didn’t look like a princess, or even her twin!

At this she just blubbered, boo hoo’d, if you will,

at the end of a day that had just gone down hill.


It was then that she heard them, oh glorious sound,

the sound of the trumpets, all playing out loud!

She’d know that sound anywhere, her Father’s band!

The war must be over, then came the command

“All bow for the King! Give praise to our Lord!”

As a great cheer arose, all in one accord.

Their beloved King had come back to his land

after saving his people with his very own hand.

But poor Princess Hazel, she was so ashamed,

what would Papa think of how she’d behaved?

First running away and look at her now

Would the King even know her without her fine gown?

But then with a glance in her general direction

His gaze suddenly stopped, as if he’d seen his reflection.

He leaped from His steed, and running to his love

with kisses gave freely forgiveness undeserving of

“My daughter, my love, everything is just fine,

I’d know you anywhere, I made you, You’re mine.”

Wiping away all the tears, the dirt and the grime

He put her on his steed, and then in no time

they were back at the castle, back home to stay

but she never forgot what she learned on that day…

1 John 3:1

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!

Oops. I forgot to mention the best part. God gave me this entire story. Really. The story “came to me” during an early morning quiet time with Him. I haven’t rhymed anything since 4th grade. The first night I tried to write it in verse was like pulling teeth. The second night it all just sort of…flowed. I couldn’t stop writing until I was done, I was afraid I’d never be able to rhyme again. If this sounds cheesy, then it’s just proof that what I’m saying is true, I can’t write a lick on my own. I just really hope He helps me with the illustrating part too!”

Yep.  It’s now 2015, and I haven’t written poetry since.  Maybe that’s a good thing…


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