Category Archives: Stories

The Balloon – A Parable

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Once, a little girl found a balloon. She wanted to keep it, but it was full of air and wanted to float here and there, leaving her behind. After chasing it for a while, she realized that if she wanted to hold onto it, she would have to attach it to herself somehow. So, she tied one end of a string around the end of the balloon, and the other end to her wrist.

From then on, she did everything with that balloon. She ate with it. She went to school with it. She played with it. She slept with it. And once she even came very close to popping it.

But it was her balloon. She’d claimed it, and so it stayed with her through all her activities.

But soon the balloon began to deflate. It had been in the house, in the car, in the cold, in the heat, in restaurants, at sporting events, piano lessons, gymnastics… She’d carried it around all this time. It had become such a part of the little girl, that she hardly knew it was there anymore.

She noticed when it started to deflate, not because the balloon was smaller, but because it got in the way. It used to carry itself through doorways, just by floating like such balloons do. But now she had to pull it through doors and make sure it didn’t get stuck. Sometimes it did get stuck, and she had to stop, go back, and untangle it from the door, and sometimes from other people.

The balloon was getting to be really annoying. But how could she let it go? It was her friend, her companion, her playmate, her partner in all things. What would she do when it was gone?

One day the balloon got caught in a revolving door. That had never happened before, and it would never happen again. The string became hopelessly tangled in the doorway, and finally someone had to cut the string from her wrist.

The little girl wasn’t hurt. But the balloon she had loved for so long, that had become such a part of her life and who she thought she was, could not be saved. There was no air left in the balloon by this time anyway, but the loss was still a painful one.

Immediately, the little girl wanted another balloon. But then she realized she felt free without a string and the weight of a balloon following her around wherever she went!

Freedom was hers, at last! And yet it always had been; she just had a different idea of what freedom meant.

Freedom was not in the balloon that floated without purpose or aim. Freedom was within her, and she could choose to share it, make new friends, and still keep the Spirit that made her embrace the balloon in the first place. She was free with the balloon, until she expanded and discovered new freedom. Then, it was time for the balloon to go. It was no less loved. But it had served its time with her and done her good.

That little girl, like so many, will always remember the balloon she lost. But she will think of its gifts and smile, because it showed her what she already had: a free Spirit that, if she let it, could carry her life to heights beyond her imagination.

God is at the Yard Sale

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God is at the yard sale.

In the piles of junk, God waits. In the people so excited to find that special thing, those canning jars, fishing tackle, car parts, musical instruments, God stirs.

God breathes in those who know, “All right, it’s time. Time for this, that, this and that to go. It’s no use to me anymore. It’s junk but maybe someone else can use it.”

God is in the relief they feel when someone buys up their old stuff. God is in the coins and bills exchanged. God is in the joy of having money to save or spend, and having a clean basement, closet or garage.

God is in the people who go home ecstatic, the kids with their new old stuffed animals, The mothers with their purses and skirts, crock pots and someone else’s nana’s china. The bachelors with their motorcycle helmets and tool boxes. The fathers with their swing sets, slides, play houses, breathing a sigh of relief, “Thank God it’s in good condition!” Realizing they got a bargain and they’re grateful for it, even though they tell you only women are bargain hunters.

God is at the yard sale. Within the stereotypes, within the piles of junk, inside the bargain hunters, and right there guiding the people who decide what to sell. God is there. At the yard sale and beyond, before, and after.

So the next time you visit a yard sale, and you will, you know, remember: God is in the people passing on their things. God is in the things themselves, that like their former owners, are getting a clean slate today. And God is in you, yes, even at a yard sale.

Be the Pumpkin, A Personal Story

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I remember, sometimes people called me Pumpkin when I was little. Little and cute, it seemed to me, because no one does that now. But what I remember most is being a pumpkin, actually being one for a few moments one year at Halloween.

Mom made the costumes for all of us. I was probably in first or second grade, and I don’t remember if all my older brothers and sisters were also pumpkins, or just some of them. I do know there were at least four of us who dressed up that year. And so there we were, in our homemade costumes, winning a prize at some school dance or another for the older kids. The whole family could go, so I got another chance to wear the costume, after trick-or-treating and the school Halloween parade. “Third time’s the charm,” as they say.

But it took a long time to get to that point. First, Mom had to make the costumes. To this day, over 20 years later, I wonder what possessed her to make them all! But we were to be pumpkins, and hers were the hands that made it so.

Mom always was crafty. Yeah, take that any way you like, because she was and is. She could do anything with some felt, a big ole’ trash bag, and a sewing machine. Oh, and the tape. Don’t forget the double-sided tape! Because that, my friends, was important.

So, the costume. What was it like? Well, if memory serves, I had a green stem with green leaves on top of my red hair. Sounds more like a Christmas tree, but it worked. That was all felt. And it was glued together, so it pretty much formed a hat.

Then, there was the trash bag. With holes for arms and legs, it went on like a jumper. But being plastic, we didn’t want it to rip. So it took some doing and at least one other person to get me into the bag.

I don’t know if the bag was already orange, or if painting was another of Mom’s talents put to use that year. But I know the result was me, with the pumpkin head and orange body. And I was big, let me tell you. Big and round. That impressed me so much, how such a skinny kid could be made so pumpkin-like by filling the bag up with, paper, was it? I sort of recall making a rustling sound as I walked, so I guess it was.

And the tape? Well, that kept the pumpkin-bag shoulders on my shoulders. It stuck to my shirt or dress or whatever I wore under the costume. Like I said, the tape was really important. And I felt important carrying a roll of tape around. That was the coolest thing!

Now would probably be a good time to explain why this pumpkin thing meant so much to me. Halloween, if not before that, has been my favorite holiday ever since. And it wasn’t just because of the candy. It’s the pumpkins! I love pumpkins! It goes back to “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!” Thanks to Charles Schultz for this enduring character. So I was honored to dress as my favorite Fall fixture.

I didn’t care who liked it, though clearly, people did. I didn’t care who noticed. I didn’t care who helped me into the costume. I just had fun being who and what I was. And every year at Halloween I vow I’ll be a pumpkin. But I’ve never pulled it off again. Although I admit, I came pretty close the year I was pregnant!

Now I realize I don’t have to be little and cute, or big and round for that matter. I just have to have fun being who and what I am. Not just at Halloween, but all year long.