This is a true story about a sister in the Lord, that came to me thru the years for encoragement and support, and prayers. She married a Count from some small European nation, and relayed this story to me. He finally got to the point of beating her, and they were dicvorced, about five years back. I don't know where she is now, and haven't heard from her since right after the divorce.But I KNOW that she is seeking her Godly man. I pray that she found him and that they are happy. Art

They used to call me, Angel!     They used to call me Angel, when I was two or three. Everyone said how lovely I was,  What a beauty,  I would be. I reveled in their compliments, I prissed, and preened Combed, and dressed; I believed what they told me. That fairness, beauty, grace, and pride, would A life of ease, for me,  Provide.   My suitors have been many, I even loved a few. But for such a lovely Prim Donna,  They would never do. Too crass, too plain, too poor, for you,  Nothing, dear, but a Prince  Will ever, really, do.   In fairy tales, the prince’s so fine, How could I not, want?  To make one Mine.   So handsome, he came a courtin, from money did he come. His family’s name, royalty claimed, All my dreams Rolled into one But money and fame, they often breed,  A man, who’s selfish,  Full of greed. A man who looks so fine and true , As he says he’will  Take care of you.   Then when the wedding’s over, and We talk of life’s great plans,  I realize too late, that all his plans are planned.  No room for me in his destiny,  I’m just to look, pretty and stand by his side, and  Give him children too, but As for me and any of my life’s plans, Well, that will, Never do.   What of romance? What of your love? That’s supposed to  Honor me,  What of that promise that you’ll adore, and   Always strive,  To make the two, a We!   I cry, I fight, I scream,  For what I feel, should,  Be mine,   It only makes him stomp and shout,  It only makes him,  Mean.   In my tears and sorrow, I almost overlook,  The one thing that will save me: My very favorite Book. It’s called the Holy Bible, And my aunt, did make it  Mine She used to read the stories, of  Jesus and His love. How to walk with my Savior,  And in His light to Shine.   So, I’ve written this little story, so I could share with you: That the only,  Thing that matters, when all is said and done.  There’s no good man on this earth, No not even one.  The only good one, you’ll ever find, is One who left this world, behind.  One who gave himself, and follows, the Lord,  Then a real Man you will find. Who’s good to you, and loves you true ,  Who, cares and adores, and,  Treats you, oh, so  Kind.   A man who follows Jesus, Is what you better,  Seek Or you might find a prince like mine,  That you won’t want to,  Keep.     Art Proctor, writing for, Brenda --5-16-06