The Saga of the Red Balloon

After accepting the call to be the full time pastor at the church of a small coastal town, my wife and son and I will be settling down for a month back at our home before moving.  We were planning to take July off no matter what, as we needed to get some things done and see some friends.  Which brought us to Klamath Falls.  Which bring me to our story.

We had a little bit of time on Saturday to look around the town before going over to our friends house and having a barbeque, so we found ourselves downtown for a look.  They were having a Saturday Farmer’s Market and we got out to peak at the booths and the items for sale.  It was a typical market with produce, hand made crafts, candles, scarves, honey, etc.

At some point my four year old marches up to the herbs and spices booth and says, as matter of factly, to the seller of said herbs and spices, “I would like a green balloon please.” 

This was sweet on many levels.  One, he was so polite in his asking.  Two, he knows the difference between customers and those employees who are in charge.  Three, he was quite decisive and specific. 

Oh yeah, and four, there were no balloons anywhere at the booth, let alone green ones.  The kind lady said, “You do, do you?”  She then excused herself and went to some to the other booths before coming back and telling my son, “They have some balloons at the far booth with the red awning.”

So off we went to find a balloon.  Arriving at the “Balloon” booth, my son again asks politely, “I would like a green balloon, please.”’  “All we have are red ones.  Would you like a red one?”  “Oh yes, please.”  We do have a polite little guy.

The lady proceeded to tie the balloon on to his wrist, and after a “Thank you” off we went heading back to our car.  Walking though the market, our son a couple of times exclaimed to those passing by, “See my red balloon?” 

As we got to the sidewalk, my boy no longer wanted the red balloon tied to his wrist.  He wanted to hold the ribbon in his hand.  My wife was explaining to him that he would have to be very careful and to hold on tight and not let go of the ribbon.  And there he was, ever so carefully, holding the ribbon that held the red balloon in his tiny little hand.  So excited was he.  And then. . . .

It all happened so fast.  His little fingers on his little hand opened.  The red balloon with the ribbon began to lift in the air.  My wife did make a valiant attempt to grab the ribbon as it floated up.  But, to no avail.  The red balloon went higher and higher into the air.

My son’s face said it all.  First, there was a look of “what just happened?”  Then there was shock.  And then, the tears.  “My balloon!  It’s in the air!  Get it!  Can you get it please!  Up there!” 

My son is known for his pathos, and this was no exception.  His weeping and wailing and moaning and mourning were too much for any parent with a conscience to handle.  My wife knelt down by our sobbing and grieving son doing her best to console him and to also remind him of what she had said about holding tightly the ribbon. 

The tears, however, continued.  And continued.  And continued with the intermittent, “My balloon!  My red balloon!  It’s gone!  Up in the air!”

 Prior to getting into the car, we made our way to Safeway to buy some water and juice as the temperature was approaching the 90’s.  At the register, my boy explained his plight to the cashier.  “I lost my red balloon.  It went up in the sky.  It’s gone.”

“Well, we will just have to get you another one.  Would you like another balloon?”  He responded, “Yes, please.”   Taking a red balloon from a display and tying it to his wrist, she said, “There you go.”  “Thank you,” he said. (I told you he was polite).  And off we went.  And everybody was happy.  Wait. . . .

Though he seemed happy to have another red balloon, he was, for the next half hour, still sad and weepy about his other red balloon that was lost.  I am not going to lie when I say that I was getting a bit frustrated at his continual mention of his lost red balloon when he had a perfectly good, new and better looking balloon on his wrist.   My wife mentioned that he seems to have real concern over the lost red balloon.  Then things seem to settle back down again.

The next night, he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.  No doubt it was due to being in a motel and it was still hot, he snuggled into our bed.  And for the next forty-five minutes, he and I had some wonderful conversation with each other and performed some skits with his teddy bear.  Then, almost out of the blue, he began to softly quiver and said in the saddest whisper I have ever heard, “My red balloon is up in the sky and it is lost.”

It became as clear as it could be to me at that very moment.  My boy was sad, distressed, and troubled over a lost red balloon.  It was not because he lost it.  It was not because he no longer had it.  It was not because it had floated away. 

My boy was concerned about the well being of the red balloon.  It was far away from anybody.  It was all alone.  My wife was right that he was concerned because the balloon was lost. Out there in the air and nobody was able to get it.  Poor little red balloon all by itself.

 Jesus said that, “the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.

My son of me, desired to save that which was lost.

  In Jesus’ case, He was speaking about people.  My son was speaking of a red balloon.  And if my son has such concern over lost little red balloon, how much more should I or we be concerned over people who are just as lost?

That'll preach.  And I will, on August 5th, at the coast.