Trading Balloons

I wrapped up an 18-month class last week and for the first time in 18 months, I feel like I finally have bandwidth to think creatively and philosophically again.  The Lord seems to already be stirring my heart toward something and I felt it was worth sharing.  

I had a strange yet vivid memory this week.  About this time of year, my elementary school used to have this program where they gave students a helium balloon for every book they read at home over the school year.  At field day, you would receive all of your balloons and then walk around outside with a public display of your accomplishment.  At the end of the accomplishment parade, we would release them all into the air to land in people’s yards as far as the next town over. Each balloon had your name inside with a record of your achievement.  

I have a very clear memory of sitting in my bed with a stack of books that my mother had carried from our library and set there for me to read and record.  They were those short hardback Disney readers and we had enough for me to fill up my page (probably the night before it was due).  Here’s the deal:  I didn’t read those books.  I just sat there and flipped a few pages, looked at the pictures, and then wrote the title on my little form.  My family was somewhere in another room probably consumed with whatever urgent task society told them warranted their undivided attention in that moment.  

When field day came, I walked around Pleasant Grove Elementary with as many or more balloons than any other student out there.  My success was evident for the entire school to see and talk about.  No doubt it reflected well upon my parents too who encouraged me to read that many books over the year, right?   

My mom passed away in a tragic car accident 2 months later.    

As I look back on that moment, and the very few memories that I have of my mother who lived a very busy life, I find it hard to put into words how readily I would have traded all of those balloons for just one that came with a memory of her reading in bed next to me. 

Picture is from when Jack was 2 and I brought balloons home to him from an event at work. 

Fast forward.  Last month, my oldest son won an award at school for making good grades.  He was invited to a ceremony where he would be required to walk across a stage in front of a crowd of people.  He requested not to go.  That kind of public recognition is not how he rolls.  I pondered, for about 3 seconds, making him participate.  How else would everyone know how hard he worked, how smart he is, or (dare I admit it) what a great mom I am?  We decided to trade that picture and public moment for a mother/son trip to his favorite restaurant, Cane’s Fried Chicken.   Trent and I affectionately now call those moments, “trading a balloon.”    

In Matthew 19:20-21, a man asks Jesus what he still lacks and Jesus tells him to go sell all that he has, give it to the poor, and follow Him.   I read an interpretation of that verse that the other day that suggested it was less about the man’s stuff and more about Jesus encouraging him to trade that which holds no real value (balloon) in exchange for that which does if he truly wants to succeed.   As simple as that concept sounds, it really hit me.  

Possessions, achievement, and recognition all have culturally-defined value.  Like the high value dishes I inherited from grandmother that no one wants anymore, their value is fleeting as soon as culture assigns greater value to the next item or accomplishment.  I am still sitting with this thought, but as I continue to ponder this notion of exchanging what isn’t real for what is, I challenge myself and you (if you need it) to stop collecting balloons for what is fleeting and instead trade those balloons for moments and allegiances who value can’t be measured and doesn’t change with time.