Make-a-Wish Foundation Tour: My Experience Helping a Wish Come True
An honest reflection on parenting, love, and illness.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
Last December, I had the opportunity to lead a Make-a-Wish Foundation tour on a search for Santa in the Finnish Arctic Circle.
I wasn’t prepared for so many children on the job, much less Make-a-Wish children. For some reason, it didn’t occur to me that Searching for Santa tours would be aimed at families and youngsters. (What? Adults love a good Santa search too.)
I’d signed a seasonal contract to work in Lapland, Finland as a tour guide, and I’d crossed the 5000 miles from Toronto to London to Suomu safely, just for this job.
So, there I was in training, finding out for the first time that not only would I be handling throngs of children each day, but our very first tour would be Make-a-Wish.
I don’t have to tell you the implications of Make-a-Wish. These are children who have been diagnosed with severe enough health conditions to render a (possibly last) wish-come-true from the Foundation.
In this case, these children wished to see Santa Claus or something else Finnish Lapland had to offer.
I’ve never been much of a kid person, and as an only child, I haven’t been privy to the usual angsts of sibling dynamics. But I had one thing going for me I was confident about, and that was that I knew children liked me.
I was determined to do the best I could for this Make-a-Wish tour.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
We talked over a lot of concerns in training, and I think everyone was relieved when the leaders reassured us the Foundation wouldn’t send any kid who wasn’t well enough to be in the snowy, chilly environment of the Arctic Circle.
But they forgot about the parents.
We set off with high hopes on the day of the tour, eager to welcome our guests. By day’s end, it was clear something was wrong. Every one of us on duty stormed into the staff room with an expression I can only describe as a mixture of crestfallenness, frustration, and vexation.
In a way, it was a relief. My group hadn’t been the only one to seem awry.
So, what happened?
In diplomatic terms, the parents were just not into it.
Children know how to play. They don’t need to learn how to laugh or smile or be present.
We thought we’d be there for the children, but in fact we were there for the parents. There were some truly grumpy grown-ups in the gang, and most of our energy went to cheering them up, egging them on, encouraging them to play with their children.
Now, before anyone goes pointing fingers at bad parenting, there’s something we must understand.
Many of these parents had been dealing with their child’s sickness for a very long time. Some of them were at the end of their rope. They needed extra encouragement to get involved, more so than the children.
Then there were parents on the opposite end of the spectrum, who wanted to make the most of every moment — brave smiles on their faces — but their child didn’t have the mental or physical capacity to engage.
It goes without saying that these children were young. Some of them so young that I had to question whether they knew what they were getting into when they made their wish.
Long-term illness doesn’t stop because you go on vacation, and for these families, it didn’t help that they were loaded with antibiotics, medications, and/or IV lines. They were in the most remote resort we operated at, and heaven forbid a mishap should’ve happened without medication on hand. One little toddler had to take his shots 3 times a day. With mental strain like that, it’s no wonder the parents were worn out before we’d even started.
What surprised me was that despite their bags and bags of prescriptions, the families of Make-a-Wish didn’t bring a lot of luggage. Everything fit into one large suitcase and one or two smaller backpacks, no matter the amount of family members. For a coach of 50 people, the storage area was only half full.
Our regular families often brought 3 large suitcases each plus bits and bobs in the forms of handbags, purses, and backpacks. Keep in mind, each tour was only 3 days and 2 nights.
I guess this goes to show sickness is a whole family affair. You realize how little you need when there are more important matters on hand. Probably there were a lot of financial sacrifices as well.
Siblings of sick children have a unique perspective. If they’re old enough to comprehend, they often become second-line caretakers (in some cases, first-line).
One family I made friends with had an older son who diligently looked out for his little brother the entire way. The older son was a quiet, introverted boy, though he was receptive to conversation when I talked to him. I wondered how his family situation might have affected him growing up.
It’s an emotional journey.
Healthy children will see a deep pile of snow and throw themselves right into it. Sick children will stand by and tentatively ask their parent(s), “Can I lie in the snow?” They exhibit incredible restraint for their age. Once they get the yes, though, these children jump and bound just like anyone else. Sickness does not define their attitude towards play, and that’s something we can all learn from.
Still there was a lot of unspoken tension. More than a few caretakers secretly wiped away tears.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.
One guest stood out: a single mother with 2 young children in tow. From the start she was evidently stressed and irritable, though she gave politeness where politeness was due. During dinner one night, she walked in, tugging her children in hand, tears streaming down her face. She was at a point where she didn’t care who saw or knew.
Their table atmosphere was sullen, and it was obvious a disagreement had taken place in their hotel room between the mother and son, her sick child.
My tour partner, who happened to be of a similar age to her, sat down with her and listened as the mother finally let loose her quiet grievances. My tour partner took the kids to get food while the mother hunched with her head in her hands, heaving heavily. I watched all this out of the corner of my eye.
Those of us who are fortunate to live with good health may not understand the weight of illness. Especially when it’s your child. Especially if you’re a single parent. Especially if this might be their last wish. Sometimes that stiff upper lip has to come down.
It wasn’t all bad.
One parent had a recovered child (now teenager) already! They were on the tour to make up for a missed opportunity before, and this time, the teenager’s girlfriend was along for the ride. Some wishes do come true, and in this case, it was the best wish the stars could’ve granted.
Our trainers had said Make-a-Wish is always “a hard tour,” but none of us had been prepared for the kind of hard they’d meant.
If there’s anything that’s been reinforced for me, it’s that health is a privilege.
I am very, very lucky to have a healthy body. I want to treat my body well, nurture it, in order to play, laugh, run like a child. I hope my loved ones take care of theirs too, so we can have more time to play, laugh, and run together.
My Make-a-Wish experience was unexpected and eye-opening and a learning curve. I definitely had to pull on insane amounts of compassion.
There were sad moments, sure, but it wasn’t heartbreaking because at the end of the day, the parents pulled through, however much they could. Maybe nobody asked if they were willing to spend 3 days in -27°C weather, but by the time the celebration party rolled around, and all was accomplished, they were in much better moods.
They’d spent the day building snowpeople, making angels, carrying their baby “reindeer” on their shoulders for a ride. I was part guide, part cameraperson, recording these precious moments for them. When I think back on this time, I’m grateful I was able to be a part of their wish journey.
And with a wave and a heartfelt “thank you” to us, they were off… to wherever life took them.
Note: I use “parents” in this article, but caretakers of children aren’t necessarily the blood parents. This was a sensitivity that had been pointed out to us on the job. For more diplomacy, “grown-ups” or “guardians” are good alternatives.
Photo by Lonely Girl, Lonely World.