Wish List

My little grandson, who I've pet-named "Biscuit", pulled himself up onto the low stone wall surrounding the fountain with speed and agility. I held his waist as a precaution, visualizing his headfirst tumble into the clear water, which, now that I think of it, wouldn’t have been so bad on a February day in Florida. It was 80 degrees yesterday.

I love Florida winters. For 13 years I loved rolling down the car window, letting my bare arm ride the wind, gloating at the top of my lungs: “Hello Buffalo! Hello Minnesota! I live in Orrrrlllaaandooo!” My little riders would giggle as they imitated me, which must have been a sight for the car behind us. By a fluke, our daddy’s career had transferred us from aspens to palm trees and I was determined to make the best of this foreign environment, which in truth, I was not all that fond of. There was something wonderful to be said however, for routinely spending family home evening at Disney World.

Home is now in the Douglas firs, on the opposite corner of the map, so this weekend I am not Resident, but Tourist in this world of “Worlds” (did you know there’s even a “Sock World” here???) It’s Biscuit’s fourth birthday, he still lives here, so Grandma’s back, and we’re doin’ Disney, perched on the fountain at the entrance to Epcot…

“Here’s a penny Biscuit. Throw it into the water and make a wish.”

He grinned and looked at me quizzically.

“A wish is something you would like to have - or to happen.”

He looked through the bubbles at the coins on the bottom of the fountain. “See? Other people made wishes here too.”

He still hesitated. I took another penny out of my wallet and squeezed my eyes shut. “I wish Biscuit will grow very tall.”

My penny flew through the air and splashed into the waterfall.

His eyes lit up. With a fling that surprised even me, his penny sailed to the very top of the tiered fountain. He was joyful. The whole tossing business proved great fun for the next ten cents, but he never did enjoin a “wish” upon his pennies. He didn’t get it and I couldn’t explain it.

Somehow, when I very young, I knew all about wishes. Clear summer nights in the Pacific Northwest are perfect for outdoor sleep-over’s and my brothers and I often toted our pillows and blankets into the yard. There I thought deep thoughts (for a little person) and wondered at the universe just out of reach. And I always made wishes. My Disney-inspired conversation with Biscuit made me realize that it’s a practice I’ve never outgrown.

As recently as last week, straightening my “writing” desk, I wished once again that I could find the time to finish my book. The dust was pretty thick. No one had touched that desk, that keyboard, that stack of books and notes for a long time. Of course, no one would, but me. Funny that I thought the auspicious moving of the table to the front room would make any difference. Just because it’s in plain sight doesn’t mean I’ll have any more time than normal to write.

I felt hopeless and was tempted to put all the dust-collecting paraphernalia away until a little cricket appeared on my shoulder and whispered:

Make a list. Take inventory of every wish you can ever remember making.

Exercising a rusty brain took some doing, but I finally had my list. I starred at those thirty wishes with amazement, including the first few which were made under the stars by a little girl with lots of faith. Twenty-five of the thirty had materialized and there was every possibility that the other five still might.

The first wish I ever made reflects a child’s priorities, but it was real and sustained and added-upon every time we took a family vacation. I had forgotten it altogether until I made my list. There must be at least fifty stars bearing the innocent aspiration:

I wish I lived next to Disneyland.

Just tonight, my sweet friend Dana shared with me a Meridian article written by H. Wallace Goddard entitled: “You Can Write Your Blessings—If You Do Right” which I strongly recommend for a fuller treatment of this subject. I quote the opening paragraph:

“Heber C. Kimball made an extraordinary invitation: “I have said often, you may write blessings for yourselves and insert every good thing you can think of, and it will all come to pass on your heads, if you do right.” (From an address in the Old Tabernacle, August 1853.)

I have loved “the right” all my life. I believe that God delights in my happiness, the way I delight in giving my grandbaby happiness. In the eternal scheme of things, among stars and comets and nebula, I am my Heavenly Father’s little girl. If a dream is a wish your heart makes, only He can know it and only He can fill it. And since compiling my "wish list" I BELIEVE more than ever that He will.

What do you think a wish is? I hope you'll share one or two... or if you make your own "wish list" I'd love to hear about it.

"When You Wish Upon a Star"
Video by Mona and Grant. Music by N'Sync. Photos by NASA.