My sister was in Sweden this summer and from Kalmar Slott (apparently it’s the castle that produced the fairy tale of the prince turned into a frog) she brought me back this:
You notice the crown? Well, she figured I’d kiss way too many real frogs in my life, it was about time I kissed one with the assurance he’d be the real deal. So there, thanks to Liz, my search is over. Now, if I could just manage to convince myself to kiss him, he just might turn into a real prince.
While I wait and give myself time to mull this over, I have placed him right next to the little sheep they gave me at the spirituality conference back in June, in representation of God’s flock.