My Wish

On a recent trip to Ohio, I sat down to have a family dinner with my Sister and her family, with Atlas. While we were having dinner, I asked the table:

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

My sister kicked things off with her wish of of having a mansion. Her kids shared their hopes for a big boat, or mountains of money. When it came to Atlas, he said one word that said a lot about him.

“Rocky.”

There are a lot of moments that make a parent proud, but few have captured my heart with the simplicity and authenticity of his answer.

I was reminded of a comic from Calvin and Hobbes where Calvin askes Hobbes the same question; ‘if you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?’

“A sandwich”

Calvin is absolutely dumbfounded that Hobbes didn’t ask for a variety of things, including his own personal continent.

The final frame of the comic shows Hobbes eating a sandwich, remarking “I got my wish.”

Contentedness and satisfaction are two traits you’ll never see advertisements for, the way that you do the next best thing, destination, outfit or trophy/wife husband on your screen. You know, the flash things that will finally make you the person you want and ‘deserve’ to be, if only you’ll spend your precious dollars on obtaining them.

What’s more important than your dollars are the bits of time that you give away when you glue your eyes to a screen and surrender the one thing that you – and only you – truly own; your time.

While Atlas has far more toys, instruments and time with his Dad than any child I’ve ever met or heard about, there’s one thing I can truly say about him that separates him from the rest of the pack:

He’s content.

When Atlas asks for something, he doesn’t ask for it from the perspective/attitdue of entitlement or deservation; rather, he sincerely asks out of curiosity and interest, while finding the greatest amount of happiness and occupation in the smallest gifts I buy him.

During our trip, Atlas and I took a visit to the Ohio Historical Society. As we wrapped up our visit there, I took him into the gift shop and told him he could pick out a toy. I was prepared to buy him anything that we could fit into our suitcase.

Instead of the big stuffed animals and toys they offered, Atlas walked over to a display where they sold poished gemstones and rocks. I handed him a small pouch and told him he could have as many rocks as he could fit in the bag. Immediately, he began picking out shiny, magnetic rocks, in addition to a small handful of other rocks.

For the rest of the trip, Atlas took that litlte pouch full of stones with him wherever he went; playing with the magnetics in the car, sharing them with his cousins and reminding me to put them in my murse whenever we left the car.

When he and I went to COSI, I repeated the same exercise and took him to the gift shop; offering to let him pick out any toy/item he wanted. Instead of rushing to the extravagent-looking toys, he walked over to the jewelry display they had and carefully selected a necklace to buy for his Mom, back in Texas.

When we got back home, Atlas and I went to the kitchen counter and began wrapping the gift(s) we got for his Mom. As I finished putting the last piece of tape on the wrapping paper, I looked over and saw Atlas crumpling up a piece of wrapping paper around something.

“Atlas, what is that?”

“I want to give Mom some of my magnets.” he said; showing me a few of the magnetic rocks he placed inside of the wrapping paper.

That was another moment that made me stop, just like his “Rocky” comment. For nearly a week, I watched as he took his precious rocks with him everywhere he went; the rocks he chose instead of anything else in the gift shop. And there he was, wrapping up a few of them to give to his Mom.

In a lot of instances in life, I think that people offer their treasures to others who might appreciate them, while missing the total significance of what the offered gift meant to the person giving it, just as his Mom was likely to appreciate the gift but not fully understand just what it meant to Atlas before she received it. For the necklace he gave her, she wasn’t aware that he chose that gift for her instead of any other toy in the gift shop.

Some of the most wonderful things in life are also the simplest things. Months ago, I gave Atlas a piece of gum. Rather than throwing away the wrapper, he twisted it around and gave it back to me.

“Dad, I made you a tornado!” he exclaimed.

I haven’t thrown away a single ‘tornado’ he’s given me. Rather, I’ve filled a small jar on my kitchen counter with every little ‘gift’ he’s offered me, and know that I’ll never be able to bring myself to throw them away.

One person’s trash is another person’s treasure.

There are a lot of things that money can buy; a big house, boats, cars and plastic surgery. However, none of these things will ever last, nor are they the things you think about on your deathbed and wish you had one more moment with.

More important to a huge house or expensive wardrobe are treasures that often get pooh-pooh’d by the people who lack them:

Peace within your family.

Respect given and received.

The treasure of friendship.

Family dinners.

A true relationship with your family.

Laughter.

Joy.

Gratitude.

You won’t ever see a commercial for these things. However, they’re the ‘stuff’ that truly make life rich, abundant and worth living every second until they run dry.