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I remember the first time I heard a happily ever after tale. Mrs. Clapp, my first grade teacher read the Walt Disney’s version of "Cinderella" to the class.
“…and they lived happily ever after,” Mrs. Clapp said as she turned the book towards the class so everyone could see the picture of Cinderella and the handsome prince kissing in the back of the coach as they rode off into eternal bliss.
“And then what?” I asked before raising my hand.
“And then nothing,” Mrs. Clapp responded with a quizzical tone as if she were confused about the question. “Happily ever after means just that. They will be happy for the rest of their lives.” Since I came from a not so happy background, I found comfort in the happily ever after concept. In fact I embraced the idea. Cinderella was a woman to which I could relate. Within a short time, Cinderella and all the other Disney victimized princesses became my role models.
From that moment forward, I tinkered with the notion until it ultimately developed into three ideologies in which I embrace: the belief in a loving God, being a follower of God incorporates humanitarian actions more than religious rituals, and one can eventually live happily ever after. Although the environment in which I was raised would produce a vast internal conflict between what I was taught about spiritual and humanitarian matters and what I later came to believe, the basic notion that a compassionate heart reaps love guided me through some of my darkest hours.
After all, Job received seven times more assets after being tormented by Satan than he had before; God rewards his devoted servants with eternal love in the kingdom of heaven; and Cinderella lived happily ever after, after escaping her abusive step-family. So why shouldn't I believe? Nobody ever hears how Job had a nervous breakdown after the loss of his property, becoming infested with disease, losing all of his children to death, being abandoned by his friends, and being suppressed by a wife who constantly harped on him regarding some unknown sin that caused God to abandon Job in the first place. Nobody talks about how Satan defeated Job by striking him with one horrific incident after another. Nobody thinks about how it would have been more humane to kill Job than to force him to live through the pain. And certainly nobody discusses the wager between God and Satan and how it was the primary purpose behind Job’s torment. Has God ever cast a devoted and faithful servant to hell?
From that moment forward, I tinkered with the notion until it ultimately developed into three ideologies in which I embrace: the belief in a loving God, being a follower of God incorporates humanitarian actions more than religious rituals, and one can eventually live happily ever after. Although the environment in which I was raised would produce a vast internal conflict between what I was taught about spiritual and humanitarian matters and what I later came to believe, the basic notion that a compassionate heart reaps love guided me through some of my darkest hours.
After all, Job received seven times more assets after being tormented by Satan than he had before; God rewards his devoted servants with eternal love in the kingdom of heaven; and Cinderella lived happily ever after, after escaping her abusive step-family. So why shouldn't I believe? Nobody ever hears how Job had a nervous breakdown after the loss of his property, becoming infested with disease, losing all of his children to death, being abandoned by his friends, and being suppressed by a wife who constantly harped on him regarding some unknown sin that caused God to abandon Job in the first place. Nobody talks about how Satan defeated Job by striking him with one horrific incident after another. Nobody thinks about how it would have been more humane to kill Job than to force him to live through the pain. And certainly nobody discusses the wager between God and Satan and how it was the primary purpose behind Job’s torment. Has God ever cast a devoted and faithful servant to hell?
I don’t remember Cinderella being beat and later rejected as a result of her sinful nature. I don’t recall her being dragged by her hair, kicked in the back, or having her face forced into cat dung by her father figure. I don’t recollect her being repeatedly raped—physically and mentally ravished of her worth. Nor did she marry and divorce two men who resembled her assailants before finding her prince. And once she found the prince, he certainly didn't force Cinderella out of her happily ever after because he became bored, complacent, or fell into a depression.
Regardless of what life dished, if I had any chance at survival, if I were to become what I believed is honorable; I must hold fast to sanguinity. Over the years, my optimism was trialed. There were many times I nearly gave up. But my quixotic nature along with the help of a few friendly mice provided me hope for a happily ever after ending by trusting in the probity of mankind. Perhaps I was naïve to place stock in unrealistic platitudes, but it worked. That is, until I married my prince and the fairy tale eventually ended.
So what happen when the middle-age princess realizes that happily ever after isn't happy anymore? First, she finds solace in potato chips, sandwiches, and pastries. Then she draws the curtains in the back bedroom where she sobs and sleeps for several weeks. Eventually, she wakes up and discovers that she doesn't need a prince to live happily ever after, after all.
Sandie RH Hart
Beaumont TX.
