kellyjam
12-14-2013, 03:14 PM
A reprint from AARP Bulletin Mag.
What I know about Miracles by Denise Williams Tallahassee Fl.
It was 1989, my first Christmas as a teacher. My rural Florida elementary school had many wonderful traditions, one of them being the Wishing Tree. Each student made an ornament to hang on the school Christmas tree along with a special wish. The wish had to be for something intangible and for someone else. This was a particularly difficult exercise for 5-year olds, still naturally egocentric, concrete thinkers.
It was Karen's turn to share her wish for her special person. Karen was sweet, but not likely adept at wishing for something "you can't buy in a store." I mustered a smile and asked about her wish. her answer was amazingly prompt. "I want it to snow for Christmas for my granny."
My heart sank. This was North Florida, where snow was virtually unheard of. Dutifully, I recorded Karen's wish, then paused. I knew she would be terribly disappointed when her hopes were dashed. So gently, I explained that though it was a wonderful wish, it wasn't likely to come true.
Karen would have none of it. She was steadfast in her assurance that her granny would have snow, simply because she'd wished it. The night before Christmas Eve, I drifted off to sleep to the patter of gentle rain. During the night, the temperature uncharacteristically dropped precipitously. the rain changed to sleet, and then ....
It was my first Christmas as a teacher, but not the last lesson I would learn. I knew I would never again question the faith of a child, or try to dissuade her from a belief held dear.
That Christmas Eve morning, I stood staring out my window at my North Florida lawn, now covered by one inch of Granny's snow.
What I know about Miracles by Denise Williams Tallahassee Fl.
It was 1989, my first Christmas as a teacher. My rural Florida elementary school had many wonderful traditions, one of them being the Wishing Tree. Each student made an ornament to hang on the school Christmas tree along with a special wish. The wish had to be for something intangible and for someone else. This was a particularly difficult exercise for 5-year olds, still naturally egocentric, concrete thinkers.
It was Karen's turn to share her wish for her special person. Karen was sweet, but not likely adept at wishing for something "you can't buy in a store." I mustered a smile and asked about her wish. her answer was amazingly prompt. "I want it to snow for Christmas for my granny."
My heart sank. This was North Florida, where snow was virtually unheard of. Dutifully, I recorded Karen's wish, then paused. I knew she would be terribly disappointed when her hopes were dashed. So gently, I explained that though it was a wonderful wish, it wasn't likely to come true.
Karen would have none of it. She was steadfast in her assurance that her granny would have snow, simply because she'd wished it. The night before Christmas Eve, I drifted off to sleep to the patter of gentle rain. During the night, the temperature uncharacteristically dropped precipitously. the rain changed to sleet, and then ....
It was my first Christmas as a teacher, but not the last lesson I would learn. I knew I would never again question the faith of a child, or try to dissuade her from a belief held dear.
That Christmas Eve morning, I stood staring out my window at my North Florida lawn, now covered by one inch of Granny's snow.