wishes on colored paper

Got some short wishes written on colored paper last Monday. During our company Christmas program, each one was encouraged to make a Christmas wish for somebody else—anybody else—in the room. Sheepishly, I admit that I got more wishes than the few I gave away.

It wasn’t surprising for me, really, to know what most of these people (six out of eight, to be exact) wish for me: a love life. Quite appropriately, the author of the book Love and Courtship (the revised edition of which incidentally was one of the first projects I took on as a novice editor many years ago) said: “I wish you joy and wisdom, a love life that is satisfying and from the Lord.”

As my eyes run through the words scribbled, I couldn’t help but smile. But something else touched my heart during this thoughtful exercise. Another dear and respected author, a pastor, whose most recent book on crisis I edited, wished this for me: “Wish ko lang na gumaling na ang sister ni Beng.” Two more, along with their wish for a relaxing year and a lovelife, also wished for my sister’s recovery.

Thanks. Thanks for caring enough for me to care for the people I love.

I am thrilled to say that God is granting a wish. Just recently Nang called to update me about her condition. Psyching herself for a mastectomy next month, was she glad to be told by her doctor that she would have a lumpectomy plus radiation instead. “I just got my best Christmas gift for this year!!! Praise God!,” she emailed me later. “Yes, Nang, it’s also God’s best Christmas gift for me too,” I emailed back.

Prayers aren’t just spoken out loud, with hands clasped together or even raised upward towards heaven. Prayers aren’t always silently said, or mumbled to an unseen Deity by lowly creatures groveling for a morsel of mercy.

Words hastily written on tiny sheets of paper. A wish written for another. Maybe God reads them too and recognizes each one as a prayer—maybe not eloquent as a minister would say it yet sincere as a child would write it.