The other day, my daughter called me over with excitement in her voice, “Look Mama! You can make a wish with these!” She stood over a patch of fluffy dandelions—those magical little wish-makers of childhood. But in my rush to get us where we were going, I replied too quickly, “Yes, but those aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” And just like that—I crushed the magic with a narrative. It hit me: When did blowing wishes become a weed to uproot?

I watched as Kaiya’s light dimmed and her smile faded. 

That’s the power of how we name things. Of how we frame the world.

So much of our healing begins with reclaiming the stories we’ve been told to believe—about ourselves, our culture, our dreams, our worth. Somewhere along the way, the things that once brought us joy, imagination, or hope were labeled “less than,” “unimportant,” or “in the way.” And we believed it. We stopped seeing beauty in the wild things. We traded wonder for efficiency. Magic for meaninglessness.

This same shift has happened throughout my life when I stopped seeing the dream and focused only on what was the reality I faced. We begin to accept that life is always a little less than the magic we were told existed and acquiesce to the idea that it cannot possibly be more. I spent seventeen years believing the sun had set and I would never know light and love the way I once thought it could exist- then one day I chose to leave the darkness and walk into the light and it all shifted. 

The truth is: healing means rewriting those narratives.
It means learning to see dandelions as flowers again.
It means holding tight to your own vision, even when the world tries to redefine it.
It means choosing what you want to believe about your life, your path, and your purpose.

It means that even when you think that the life you live in pain and hurt is the only one you will have, you can recreate your story through your words and what you believe.

Because what we call something matters.
When we frame our gifts through the lens of shame, they lose their power.When we name them with love, they bloom again.

So today, ask yourself:
What in your life have you been calling a “weed” that is really a wish waiting to be made?