Wishing Beetle

This morning while the girls were eating their breakfast, Anabel made the disturbing discovery of a brown beetle crawling across the floor. Neither Lucy nor Anabel are big fans of things that crawl or creep, a gene I am afraid I passed on to my girls. Jon has been dutifully trying to instill in them a calmness and curiosity about insects so he made up a game. He told them that this brown beetle was no ordinary, scary beetle; rather a wishing beetle. “Last night” he told them, “I wished on this wishing beetle for snow. And look what we got!” The girls were intrigued, but Lucy is a little more practical than Jon gave her credit for. She walked toward the beetle and very clearly stated her wish. “I wish for this wishing beetle to go away!”

“Wish” is such a fun word to say; it whispers out so softly and easily that I often forget its rich and lasting history. There are stories that are based on wishes, folk lore that use wishes to teach us humility, gratitude and caring. We wish on our birthday candles, shooting stars and before we throw a penny in a well. Not just any well, but a wishing well. I wonder at the difference? We wish for those we love and of course for ourselves; from the mundane, to the serious and heart-wrenching wishes of our souls.

I was reminded of a journal entry that my English teacher in high school had us write about. The difference between Hope, Wish, Dream. As a 17 year-old I’m sure my ideas on this subject were far different than they are now. At least I hope they are. Perhaps the fundamentals are the same, but I hope that I have learned to appreciate the subtle differences and blessings of each. They are worlds apart in application, yet they stay so closely knit that we often use them interchangeably without noticing the difference. We wish often, sometimes fervently, and sometimes without a second thought. But when I sit down and think of the differences in the words themselves, I go back to the way wish sounds as I say it. It’s a quiet, soft and powerful word. So fun to say, yet it instantly conjures magical and mystical images in my mind. The wishing well isn’t just an ordinary well anyone could get water from. No, this is no well Jack and Jill would be hanging out at. A wishing well is clean, shiny and secret; it’s one that has a powerful and specific purpose and is never crowded. I don’t ever picture a line at my wishing well. So how does a word that conjures such great images get tossed around so much? Get mixed up and interchanged with other great, but far different words, like dream? Hope?

My very favorite line of any scripture has wish in it and when I think of it, again I’m brought back to words that I can only say I think are synonymous with WISH: quiet, soft, powerful, heart-wrenching dream of our heart, clean, secret.

So when I hear my sweet 5 year-old utter the word wish with such sincerity and fervor, how could I deny her anything? So I got rid of the brown wishing beetle, without her seeing. And honestly, I only squealed a little when it wriggled in my hand.