A money tree would be nice to have. A dragon would be pretty fun too. I’m not sure about a genuinely magic eight ball, though, because I tend to lose those sorts of smaller things. But you know what I would REALLY like, if a wish was to be granted?
I would like a list of dates when significant things are going to happen. An advance notice sent special delivery – no angels required, though really, who wouldn’t mind meeting one? A lovely note to read that considerately includes photos, video clips, or teaser trailers of my potential, possible life. Why not? What would it hurt?
It wouldn’t have hurt when I was pregnant, when I wished for a gauge, or a countdown clock, or a telegram advising just when the rolling, energetic lump of a child would be delivered. Advance notice certainly would have had me ready and waiting, instead of breathing deeply in the supermarket, bent over a shopping trolley. I would have been incredibly relieved and delighted to know as a teenager that one day I would grow curves, spend entire days reading uninterrupted, and that eventually my temper would be (mostly) under control.
How could such advance notice be a negative thing? It would have been incredibly handy to know last week that I would badly graze my knee at netball, so I could have protected myself. Or if the note’s delivery had been delayed (because if I’m getting special letters, I think I can be a little generous about the timing), a further warning that I would whack the same knee bloody during today’s game would have seen me fully prepared with knee pads and first aid kit, instead of making an impressive mess of myself and my handbag.
Frankly, I’ve asked for notice. In countless prayers, I’ve pleaded for just a little warning, some protection, even a tiny glimpse of light to help me avoid the painful unexpected. I’ve read and reread my patriarchal blessing, and wish for just a little clarification. Just a couple of what’s, and when’s, and, well, when’s. After all, what could it hurt?
But then I wonder. If I had been told twelve years ago that my newborn would grow so tall and broad and stunning, would seeing him now take my breath so completely? If I’d been notified three years ago that I would be divorced, would any of my actions made a difference – and if not, what use would my agency be? Would evidence of my happiness right here and now have made a mockery of the pain I was in eighteen months ago, when everything was so miserable? Would knowing a year ago that I am going to the Segullah Retreat have lessened my anticipation, my appreciation for everything that has combined to enable me to attend? What would happen if the note simply read “Eat cake next Wednesday” – would that help or hinder my faith? Would such advice complicate my life (what sort of cake? Do I need to make it? When next Wednesday?) or simplify it? (Cake’s gotta be good, right?)
Holding a detailed program of the future would be incredible. In many ways, I can only believe it would make life so much easier. Do this. Don’t do that. Watch out for [insert applicable verb/noun] two weeks from next Friday. Something awesome this way comes on date whenever. Being impatient, I’d love to see a photo from the Segullah Writer’s Retreat, showing me who I’m sitting beside, laughing with, and meeting. (It’s you, right? You’re coming? Excellent!) I’d be fascinated in what the picture reveals – but I also have the sneaking suspicion that it would take some of the excitement and surprise away from the day at the same time.
So while wishing for advance notice of dates and details is a warm and fuzzy pastime, I think I’m going to have to give it up.
I’m going to wish for a dragon instead.
What detail would you hugely appreciate in a “special delivery” note? What fantastical item/thing/noun would you wish for, if it was going to be granted? Is there something from 10 years/5 years/1 year ago that you would have appreciated knowing in advance? What do you daydream about?
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