To you, to me, to everyone cradling a secret wish or a distant dream. Read this through, see what comes, leave your disbelief under the shade of a strong and fragrant cedar, and trust your life as it unfolds.
On the day you were born
the grass danced
the air sang
the sun bowed low in patient sway to every night’s partner,
her full and rounded mystery,
the stars harmonized
a still and silent
hallelujah symphony
the ocean rocked the earth beneath a foggy vest,
your rich and ready nest,
your mother and father,
every mother and father,
came together and apart
trusting their lives for you
making a place for you
to come home.
You are too good to be untrue.
the grass danced
the air sang
the sun bowed low in patient sway to every night’s partner,
her full and rounded mystery,
the stars harmonized
a still and silent
hallelujah symphony
the ocean rocked the earth beneath a foggy vest,
your rich and ready nest,
your mother and father,
every mother and father,
came together and apart
trusting their lives for you
making a place for you
to come home.
You are too good to be untrue.
A welcome blessing for Cedar Leonard Kroon, in full amazement and gratitude for life.
Now, leave your own wish here for what you may not yet believe could come true, and let’s see, let’s just see, what unfolds.
Abundant income streaming in from doing what I love to do – on my own terms and in my own way.
Comment by Lisa — November 23, 2008 @ 11:54 pm
The simple farm of my dreams, with space for the children to play, breathe, and explore. Something to call my own. To tend. To nurture. To adore and cherish even in the hard times. This is my one dream of dreams that I send into the universe hoping to be heard.
Thank you for this wonderful post.
earthmama
Comment by earthmama — November 24, 2008 @ 12:02 am
for angels to come during the night, compiling two years’ worth of writing into just the right order.
Welcome, Cedar, from one of those “every” mothers.
xo
Comment by Jena Strong — November 24, 2008 @ 1:50 am
the perfect balance of loving wife and mother, working and bringing home the bacon with a generous side of time to write. oh, and a cute, small laptop to do so. : )
Comment by Shawn — November 24, 2008 @ 2:16 am
That’s how it happens, Jena. It happens exactly like that.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — November 24, 2008 @ 2:42 am
I wish for seamless integration of the personal and professional . . . a life driven by passion and creativity.
And welcome Cedar to this wonderful world.
Comment by Sharon Delman — November 24, 2008 @ 3:34 am
Patience, attention, grace, love, confidence, forgiveness. That’s all.
Comment by She She — November 24, 2008 @ 3:36 pm
for the vision and knowledge to see and recognize the path leading out of this dead end job and the courage to walk that path in the midst of these troubled economic times
Comment by Joan — November 24, 2008 @ 3:37 pm
all my family in one place – on both sides, his and mine. and the clarity to know what i love to do and to make a living doing it.
Comment by latisha — November 24, 2008 @ 4:20 pm
For a long and happy family life with this man who will not let me abandon or drive him away, who just keeps returning with hands empty but heart full, in passionate longing and hope for a future we barely dare dream of — together. And for a child borne of our love, even though its the 11th hour.
Comment by Gemma — November 24, 2008 @ 4:23 pm
She She,
Let me be the first, no let me be the last, to tell you that you have all of that already. My wish is that you realize it. It is the same wish I have for myself, so we can encourage one another as we go.
Comment by Karen Maezen Miller — November 24, 2008 @ 4:24 pm
I wish that my life would fit like a puzzle piece into the lives of those close to me. Tightly and neatly bound together in place, grabbing hold of the edges and not letting go without a rough twist and a bend.
Comment by Cat — November 24, 2008 @ 4:37 pm
I just want patience, happiness, compassion, and the ability to live in the moment and see it and enjoy it. There are always other things to wish for, but then I get distracted and lose the now. 🙂
Comment by denise — November 24, 2008 @ 7:10 pm
I wish to allow myself to feel in the present and not guess whether or not I am worthy. I wish to give my daughter all that she may need to explore the world in a safe place.
Comment by Tonia — November 24, 2008 @ 8:13 pm
I thought that I had unfulfilled wishes before I read this. But, this made me realize (again) that I already have everything that I’ve ever really wished for.
Comment by Mama Zen — November 25, 2008 @ 12:39 am
i wish for my flossy duck to find her way to my house. and i wish for strength and perseverence through trying times.
but the duck alone would be fantastic.
(hollylash@rocketmail.com–thanks, karen!)
Comment by Holly — November 25, 2008 @ 1:42 am
to be free of my struggles with food and weight, for good.
Comment by Jill — November 25, 2008 @ 2:22 pm
A simple wish: peace.
Inside and out.
Simple, but not easy.
Comment by Lana — November 25, 2008 @ 2:34 pm
Grace. Courage. And discipline.
Comment by Keren — November 25, 2008 @ 8:36 pm
Oh my goodness such wonderful wishes.
What do I wish for? Contentment. Contentment no matter where I am or what I’m doing, no matter if I’m big or small, rich or poor, hungry or full. To be content with what I’ve got at any given moment. That would be bliss.
Welcome Cedar! What a fantastic name to carry in this world!
Comment by Shalet — November 25, 2008 @ 8:37 pm
My fervent fertile wish is for this little soul that I know, intuit and feel is up there will make her way into my womb, my body, my spirit, my life evolving into the beautiful glorious pregnancy that I eagerly accept resulting in a beautiful birth in 2009. A happy healthy birthday for her to join us.
Trish
patriciadolan@comcast.net
Comment by Anonymous — November 25, 2008 @ 8:42 pm
For the full healing and restoration of my dear daughter. Soon.
For deep love to blossom. Anew. Again.
For peace.
Comment by GailNHB — November 27, 2008 @ 12:32 pm
i wish for a visit to my mother in south africa. i miss her so and she is ailing.
i wish for our baby to safe.
and i wish for a new home …
such concrete wishes for me.
cedar is a miracle:)
Comment by helen — November 29, 2008 @ 10:34 pm
I hope for a full heart. I hope to never again fall asleep to my life’s potential and the world’s beauty. I hope to feed the hungry. I hope to spread the wealth. I hope to be able to say with confidence: I am a filmmaker.
Comment by spielbee — November 30, 2008 @ 5:01 pm
The patience and commitment to finish the book and get behind my own writing, rather than having to go back to making commercials.
Enough income to stay home with little A.
A new way to quiet a noisy mind. And a way to trust the peaceful, promising moments.
Comment by PerfectPear — December 2, 2008 @ 7:47 am
My son will embrace his new school and discover a true joy of learning….he’ll make friends, and love his teachers, he’ll discover the sounds of letters and begin to read. My boy will be ok!
Comment by vickie — December 3, 2008 @ 11:02 pm
May I find the way to become the healer I already know I am…May I find the way to support myself and my child doing this work…
Beautiful post Karen-thanks for the opportunity to wish…
Welcome precious Cedar–I am so glad you were born.
Comment by Meg Casey — December 5, 2008 @ 5:14 am
i am humbled by this poem.
i keep coming back to read it.
and would like to paint it beautifully on Cedar’s wall one day…
it can be from Auntie Maezen.
we love you.
ps. i wish for woods and ocean as a backyard for my children. notice i said children and not child? i am more hopeful now…
Comment by Boho Girl — December 12, 2008 @ 5:58 am
Trust in the abundance in my life, open surrender to its joys and unknowns and adventure without needing to know the next chapter. (Just saw this, thank you Karen. Stumbling on your posts often has that quality that you’re speaking right to me. Love love love.)
Comment by Katie Murphy — February 10, 2013 @ 1:17 pm