It was Thursday, four days after my twelfth birthday. Four days after I’d gotten the magic glasses from my fairy godmother—er, fairy great-aunt. By marriage.

Only on that day had I put them on in the daytime. I hadn’t dared to do so the previous day, and not just because they made me look like an old lady and I didn’t want the other girls to laugh at me.

It was because of what the king of the sun had said: that these glasses and their power were not for my human like. That only a dispensation from on high allowed me to wear them at all—that otherwise I must never put them on again, and hand them over to an appropriate authority to destroy them.

But I knew, somehow just knew, that I was to put on the glasses every night that week.

I was afraid, not of what I would see, but of what would see me.

What was already seeing me.

After lights out, I put on the magic glasses and looked out my window.

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Bright lights struck out of the sky and to the earth like silent trumpet blasts! A parade?

No, much more solemn than that—and yet, much more joyous as well!

The shining trumpets moved on their own. They were alive.

They saw me.

Where were they coming from?

I looked past them, and if I hadn’t been wearing the glasses, I never would have seen anything but a bright star that didn’t twinkle.

There was a man, seated on a kingly throne, dressed in the most regal splendor I had ever thought possible! He was so majestic that I would insult him if I didn’t curtsy—and so jolly that he seemed happy to be anywhere, with anyone, doing anything!

It was like Santa Claus in his sleigh, except dead serious. He laughed heartily with pure joy, and his laughter was like thunder.

An eagle rested on his shoulder, and he held a compass—one of those things for drawing circles, you know?

Oh, this had to be the high King at last!

I hadn’t spoken my thought out loud, but now his roaring laughter seemed angry. He was NOT the high King, but he forgave me for thinking he was. Most do. But there is One higher.

His laughter spoke of justice, of righteousness, of royalty, of surveying the land; of birds in the sky and fish in the sea; of fathers.

Of my father.

I felt horrible for how I’d treated my father—not for what I’d done to him, but for what I hadn’t done that I should have.

I was a horrible daughter.

Jupiter’s compass measured me, and I didn’t measure up.

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Two days left in the week. Would I make it?