The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
‘Make a wish!”
We say it all the time …
When we see a shooting star,
Blow out our candles,
Toss a coin into a fountain,
Or blow away an errant eyelash.
But why? I wonder.
And especially so at Christmas time.
That’s when up to 18,000 people walk through my front yard — and enter a world of possibility.
Maybe you’ve come to my house without knowing it. For the past 22 years, the “Wishing Tree” has become a place of miracles and memories.
A place where wishes might come true for thousands of visitors.
People are also reading…
It started out as a science project. A simple sign in front of our big pine tree read, “Make a wish!” We provided pens, a bit of paper, and a stapler. Those who came did the rest.
And over the years, wishing on the tree has grown to be an annual tradition.
People may come for the first time by accident, noticing the tree draped with colorful wishes only as they are passing by.
Or they came deliberately because they knew it was a place where they could spy over a shoulder to discover what “Santa” should bring.
In any case, it’s a place where secret dreams are recorded — often for the very first time.
A place where the subconscious awakens to consciousness.
In writing the wish, it becomes real, alive with possibility.
Many return to the tree each year because a wish was granted the year before. They give thanks for babies born, couples finally engaged, families reunited after years of silence, cancer cured and, sometimes, for a wish they never even knew they had until they started writing it.
Seeing the thousands of wishes for a bit of happiness, despite all logic, is a testament to the human spirit.
Maybe it’s part of who we are to want more material things, wish for less bad luck, and dream of better for ourselves, our loved ones, our world.
Even when we know it’s silly or even impossible to ask of a tree.
So we write our hopes on a 6-inch strip of paper.
Because if we lose hope, we lose the fire that drives us forward.
And words are powerful.
Once a wish enters the world, it lives on.
It awaits its creator.
It haunts them until they finish the story either by acting on it — or finally accepting a different ending.
Either way, we learn about ourselves in making them.
In writing my own wishes each year, I discovered what was important to me. It helped me prioritize the nonsense that seemed to fill my days.
The first wishes are hanging on the tree right now.
I wonder what new stories are being written.
Visitors who want to make a wish on “The Wishing Tree” in Winterhaven can find details at: http://winterhavenfestival.org/faq.html
Kathleen Bethel is a retired CEO and principal. She and her family are The Wishing Tree’s humble caretakers.