Thirteenth Day - The Wish

My son likes do what he calls "his wish" at night. Somehow he combined wishing on a star with saying goodnight prayers, so he goes to the window, looks out and has a little chat with God. Tonight the wish was clearly a delay tactic for bedtime, but what am I going to say--no, you may NOT pray? So okay, out of bed again and over to the window seat we go. While I am always amused by his prayers, especially since the phrase "Thank you God for stuff and stuff" usually figures prominently, tonight was definitely in the top ten.

The boy went over to the window, folded his little hands and looked out the window. One of the things I love about the way he prays is that it is in the same voice he uses to sell pretend ice cream to passers-by on our nature walk or when he tells strangers at the grocery store about how he is four now and therefore big enough to weigh his own fruit. He is a friend to the world, is my boy, and God is just another member of his big friendly posse. Tonight he set out to have another little chat with the Creator of the universe, saying "Thank you God for the sun, thank you for the moon. Thank you for my mom and thank you for my dad. Thank you for my good food and thank you for my doggies and thank you for my friends and thank you for my school. Thank you for my toys and thank you for the chairs and the carpets and the closet."

I think there has to be some kind of maternal girl scout patch you earn for keeping a straight face during prayers and I earned mine tonight.

I'm always glad to make the thank you list, but to be included with the carpet and the chairs? Well, that is gravy! I wish I knew what made his little mind tick. I could probably come up with a few theories about his funky little prayers and why he thinks of certain things, but at the bottom of it I believe is this one truth. My little boy loves the world. He absolutely loves everything in it. Including the chairs. He's truly grateful for things like peas and dustpans and junk mail, because everything carries the potential for transformation and delight.

It is such a privilege to parent a happy child, and I try to always be mindful of this. When I say my own prayers, my thanks are for him. My first petition is that I might raise him in such a way that I keep safe this wonderful kernel of goodness that is the core of his little soul. I know he will be tried and he might have some tough times ahead, tender-hearted children often do, but I will fight as hard as I can to give him the self-confidence he needs to send the bullies and doubters packing.

So tonight as I am contemplating a number of stressful things on my plate, I am taking a moment to be thankful for the chairs. And the carpet. Because what is good is what matters and my son reminds me daily that this world is full of goodness.