There are not many parents who subscribe to the philosophy of giving their children everything their hearts desire. Sure, they ask for a  list each December. Once I told my father I wanted Dr. Denton's. Those were footy pajamas back in the seventies, and my sights were set on stripes. He made it to the department store, but ironically got cold feet when he saw them on the rack. Surely his daughter did not actually want something so, so, ridiculous. 

 

He got me a toy talking parrot instead. I was disappointed, though it did say funny things. 

 

But it was not the end of my childhood, or our relationship. Which was sturdy enough to weather the wrong gift. If it even was. 

 

I have failed many times in choosing presents for my own kids, even when I got exactly what was on their Amazon wish list, or a letter to Santa. Once I ordered a lens for my son, which I knew nothing about except the item number. But when he opened it on Christmas morning he said he had changed his mind. He returned it and bought a laptop. For me. 

 

Still it does seem to play in the background of some people's thinking that our Father both can and should answer every wish. Especially since most of our desires are so reasonable. A better job. More children. A partner. Real estate. A cure. This is rather like casting God as a genie, whose power is unleashed in our palms, and must be subservient to all demands. 

 

One time I applied for a job that I was certain was a good fit. I was not chosen. After a grieving period it became clear to me that my perception of reality was somewhat skewed. As things unfolded, I was actually relieved not to have been hired. Other opportunities appeared that were much more suited to my strengths. Imagine that. 

 

I hope that my relationship with God is strong enough to believe that when He withholds one thing, it is because He has something even better behind His back, waiting to see me dry my eyes and look up.