From those whispered in tiny voices before drifting off to sleep, to those shouted for the world to hear, I tirelessly work at granting my children's wishes in a world full of "not nows" and "maybe laters." Some may say I'm spoiling my children by granting their wishes, but I'm not refering to the whiny meltdowns in the toy aisle we've all been privy to nor the wants of today stemming from a checklist of grade school comparables all too soon forgotten. I'm talking about the moments they wish with all their hearts, tiny eyes squeezed shut, little bodies tense as they release their wish into the universe, each word carefully enunciated so as to avoid misunderstanding. After years of parenting, I've been able to grant many a wish for my children, and what I've learned may surprise you.
While I enjoy watching their eyes register the realization that their wish was granted as their bodies jump for joy and their smiles light up my world, I enjoy watching their act of wishing more so than the actual granting of the wish.
To see my children conjure up such true and raw passion for something their heart desires is something I hope to see for many years to come. I will know despite all the times I may have gotten it wrong as a mother, that I did something right if they continue to find something in this world worth wishing for. Despite my shortcomings as a parent, I will stand tall knowing I instilled in my children a level of faith no man can rival and a spirit of hope that just may get them through their darkest hour in life.
And, how better to ensure that they continue to wish and pray for something than to do everything in my power to show them wishes really do come true. What to do when granting these wishes is beyond my control? The only thing I know to do. The only thing my own parents instilled in me. I squeeze my eyes shut and release my own motherly wish into the universe, enunciating each word carefully so as to avoid any misunderstanding of my baby's wish.
There will be moments in life when their wishes will float for a moment like the seeds of a dandelion across an expectant field only to fall to the ground, forgotten and unrealized. Sometimes that will be a blessing in disguise and I will teach them to look back and learn the lesson as I hold their hand and walk toward the next dandelion waiting to be wished upon, the next candle waiting to be blown out, the next falling star full of promise.
Do you remember wishing for something with all your heart? Did your wish come true or was the lesson in not getting your wish?
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