Leave space for a miracle. That’s my way of saying whenever I make a wish, I like to make room for it to happen. Then I wait. I try not to shove life around too much these days, however eternally tempting it may be for me to pretend I’m in control of my circumstances. I also try to stay open, not only to its fulfillment, but also open to my wish not coming true after all.
I’m learning, slowly, to celebrate the joy of sending a wish out into the world. The kindness of a wish not granted. The beauty of a closed door.
Wishing well is an invitation for something new to arrive, and the hope and preparation invested in that wish is seldom wasted if we’re gentle and openminded about unexpected outcomes. What we get – or discover – can be better than whatever we thought we wanted.
Kids are fearless masters in the art of wishing. Imagine a child who wants a pony, and decides first he’ll need a fence. Even if he’s too young to lift boards and sling a hammer, in the planning he may realize he wants to work with his hands one day, building houses. Or he’d like to become a veterinarian.
Kids also know the freedom of trading an outdated wish for a new one, without shame. The future policewoman becomes a future astronaut, until she decides to be an interior designer like her mom when she grows up. At least, that’s the story this week.
I tasted disappointment recently, but I won’t stop wishing. Life keeps teaching me that at the very spot where one thing burns away, something unanticipated and more beautiful will grow in its place. Get ready.