THE LAND OF “MYWAYONLY”

 

 

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A long, long time ago in a northern backwoods land called Unityville lived a young, beautiful damsel with her parents, grandparents, an aunt and a sibling in a great multi-storied mansion on many acres of farmed and forested land.  Idyllic in all respects, it was a land filled with milk and honey, brimming with wild creatures, and story book-like in all respects.

Alas, the maiden was given to melancholy spending long days and sleepless nights pining for her betrothed knight fighting fearlessly in a faraway land across the great waters.  She counted idly the days until her valorous warrior would return to her waiting arms and their love could finally be consummated in the little white church on the road to Unityville where all of her friends and family were also united in matrimony.

Finally after what seemed to her like a lifetime, her beloved did return safely and immediately plans were made to unite their passions in a single state of wedded bliss. The date was set for the auspicious betrothal, a little green house on a hillside along the road was secured for their new life together, and friends and family eagerly anticipated the great day.

All, except the wicked witch of the groom’s family who lived in the land of Mywayonly. Detail after detail regarding the ceremony was unacceptable to her, greatest of which was the little, white church in Unityville where all the bride’s friends and family would be waiting to celebrate their new beginning.

“No, no, no”, she was heard to complain, “that church does not have the proper doorway and the pews are far too soft for my liking. The windows are much too ornate and the preacher man is known to work in his garden on Sunday afternoons. No, absolutely unacceptable.”

Not wanting to create a stir within the families, the lovers decide to forgo all the whoopdedoo and were married by the local justice of the peace, an honorable man known throughout the rural kingdom as a wise and Godly man.

All was wedded bliss in the little, green house sitting on a hillside along the country road leading to the east of Mywayonly and, as happens in all blessed marriages, a little bundle of joy burst onto the scene. All were happy but for the wicked witch in the husband’s family.

“No, no, no,” the witch complained over the blessed bundle in his nifty little bassinet with birds and butterflies floating overhead. “That child must not be raised by the ungodly people of the little, white church along the road leading to the land of Unityville.”

“He must live in the land of Mywayonly, and you”, pointing an ugly finger at the lovely young mother, “you must learn to dress more appropriately, more fitting for a godly wife and mother. Black stockings and long dresses are what you should wear. And for God’s sake pin up that hair atop your head. Don’t continue disgracing those of us who walk in Godly paths.”

Alas, the little, green house sitting on a hillside along the country road to the east of Mywayonly was no longer a house of bliss and joy. The young husband subjected himself to the wiles of the wicked witch and left his fatherly duties to pursue the intolerant ways of the wicked witch.

The moral of this story: in your life’s quest pass through the land of Mywayonly cautiously with love on your heart.