Things I Wish for My Daughter

As the day approaches (and has since arrived) that my daughter will officially enter the world, I've been thinking often of the life that I hope she finds here. I've spent a lot of time lately contemplating the loveliest pieces of my own life, and there are so many things I hope she gets to see and feel and find. I catch myself tucking away pieces that I hope to teach her, to give to her, and then too, scratching heavy mental lines through things that I pray she never has to live through, jotting notes of beautiful experiences I hope someday find her when she isn't even looking. In typical fashion, I thought I'd leave a paper trail here, so:

Things I Wish for My Daughter

I pray that she will find what good comfort stories can be. I hope the voices of characters who will grow to be her favorites ring between her ears, that she can hear them; I hope the places that exist between book pages, be they kingdoms, castles, beaches, forests, or the inside of a cloud, also exist behind her eyes. I hope she can see them, smell them, feel their gentle breezes. I am so lucky that my mother gave me stories; I pray my daughter finds them to be a similar gift.

I hope she finds a little dirt: sand between her toes or mud that splatters up to her knees. I hope she runs and slips on sandbanks when her dad takes her fishing. I hope she's brave enough to run her hand down the scales of a fish, feels the slime on her fingertips, and that she wipes it on her jean shorts. I hope she chases fireflies and waits impatiently for caterpillars in jars to turn into butterflies. I hope she splashes barefoot through mud puddles, and tries to build forts in our back field trees.

I hope, in many facets of her life, she learns to care more about finding out what something's like than being afraid of how it might feel. And I hope too, that sometimes, when she leans recklessly into a new experience, it stings her. I hope she learns to pull her hand back when the stove is hot, to avoid the prick of a fish hook, and to wear shoes where there are sandburs. But I also hope they prick her first; I want her to understand that sometimes the consequences aren't worth the attempt, to learn how to gauge a worthwhile risk, and to learn how to ask for help when the slivers get stuck too deeply.

I hope she finds both the sunrise and the sunset, and I hope she spends her fair share of time with both. I hope she feels the beauty of all of those blending colors as the dark takes over for the night, and I hope she feels those very same rays of light on her face as it comes back to life with the morning. I hope she spends moments, makes memories, and drinks hot mugs of coffee or tea with each set of hours - and I hope she finds the beauty in both.

I hope she spots a shooting star (or thousands) and makes a wish on every one. I hope she dreams often and fiercely. I hope some of those wishes come true, and I hope some of those wishes don't. I pray she learns that sometimes wishes aren't enough - sometimes wishes are just shouts out into the universe, and if she wants something badly enough, I pray she'll learn how to reach for it herself. I hope some of the things she dreams of let her pull them tightly into her grip, and I hope some of the things don't budge no matter how hard she pulls. I hope she learns that sometimes we reach for the wrong things, and that not getting what we ask for is often the most precious gift.

I hope she learns that her voice is the strongest, most powerful, and important thing she possesses. And I hope she also learns to use it with responsibility, with respect, and that audacity must be armed with education to make any meaningful impact, must be backed with research and information and truth. It's a beautiful thing to have convictions, but she had better understand that those convictions must be well-founded. If she believes in something strongly, I pray she has the wherewithal to do her homework. A belief system is only solid if you build a strong foundation, and if you plan to stand on those beliefs, you must know that they are not volatile.

I wish for her a sense of adventure, a desire to fall in love not just with people, but with music and movies, places, and scents, and the feeling of wind on her face or ink stained on her fingers. I hope she learns to sing along to The Beatles and The Beach Boys and Billy Joel, and that she dances in kitchens and bedrooms and sings in the shower. I pray that she seeks out things that make her feel safe, but also things that make her feel challenged, things that make her ask questions, and things or places or people that feel like home.

I hope she always knows how much I love her, that she is the product of every dream I have ever dreamed, that she is the very best parts of me, and that my priority is, and will always be, her soul. I hope she learns that everything I do is to help her become a good person, and someday, after we make it through the ineludible attitude and teenage angst I know we'll face (and I probably, rightfully, karmically, deserve) I hope she looks back on every time my love will look like consequences, structure, or discipline, like saying "no" or setting boundaries, and understands that they were ways in which I loved her.

I hope she falls asleep in the safety that exists beneath the soft light from the Christmas tree and feels the magic of a hot chocolate and a fire in the woodstove while it snows. I hope her fingers go a little bit numb making snowmen and she feels the wind against her cheeks from a sled. I hope cool fall breezes and the reflection of a bright summer sun on the water bring her hope and peace.

I pray that her sweet little heart is never broken, but that, when despite my wishes and prayers, it inevitably is, she has the resilience, confidence, and strength to learn whatever lessons a broken heart can teach her, and that the next thing she loves that much is better and brighter and more. And that however many times she has to face those hard lessons, the experience is lovelier each time.

I hope she finds the thing that lights her soul on fire. And if she can't find it in whatever corners of the world she searches, I hope she learns to create it herself. Honestly, I truly hope the latter, because creating it really is better anyway.

I pray that she finds and feels and understands and relies on the presence and power and unconditional love of God, that she finds it not only in church pews, but in nature and music and midnights and love. I pray that my example of what faith can do for her is enough to make her want it for herself, and I hope she takes ownership of her own faith and learns not to rely on mine or anyone else's but builds a foundation of her own.

I hope she inherits her dad's ability to laugh in even the most difficult of situations, his love of fields and streams, of animals, landscapes, and dirt under his boots. I pray that she learns to sing his goofy, off-key songs with nonsensical lyrics, and that she has a heart that is as soft and as generous and as kind. I hope in every phase of her life she knows and sees and feels just how much he loves her, how much he loves us both.

I wish for her successes she has to earn, resiliency she can always pull from her pockets, and an ever-existing abundance of grace. I hope she finds that feeling, the one that fills her up with joy and gratitude and exhausted, happy tears - the one that I have found in writing, in stories, in the heat from theater stage lights, in watching my words come to life from script pages, the applause at a final curtain call, and the dark, quiet midnights holding her in my arms. Whatever it is that brings that feeling, be it arts or athletics, mathematics or medicine, nature, neurology, or parenthood, I hope the joy it brings her overflows her whole being.

If nothing else, because it isn't possible for me to list it all, I wish for her, my sweet girl, a life full of love and challenge and adventure and beauty and joy. I wish for a her a life that is full. I am so very lucky to be the one who guides her through it, this messy place, this lovely journey, to have her dad as my partner in it all. She is the greatest thing that has ever been ours, has ever been mine, and I pray she never forgets it - that she is my very favorite thing.