Preparation

”Why are there clusters of balloons on most of the mailboxes that are on the entrance road to the cemetery? Do you know?”

Our longtime neighbor was having a garage sale and we talked between customers buying treasures from her always wonderfully unique selection. “I heard that a family who lives on the street is burying their baby this afternoon. There are three other children and the mother asked the neighbors to help the street to somehow look different on this day since they have to travel it every day that they live here.”

I have balloons! As a children’s entertainer I keep a large stash of round balloons from the dollar store and as a regular garage sale shopper I have lots of spools of curling ribbon. I didn’t know the family but my heart ached for them at their great loss and my balloon stash could definitely help the trees in the median look different.

Already late morning, there was no time to lose. Soon colorful latex orbs tethered on leashes of shiny ribbon floated from branches up and down the center of the street leading to the cemetery. A couple of our daughters dropped by and joined in the balloon decorating when they heard the story. Passersby asked about the festive decoration and became reflective when hearing the rest of the story. We worked quickly until our balloon supply was exhausted not knowing when the family was coming.

It really did look like a celebration as the balloons bobbed in the gentle breezes, darting up and down in a playful dance. Please, dear Lord, may it bring them comfort on this most difficult of days. May they know they are loved and that You will be with them.

Surprisingly, the display looked cheerful for a couple days. Then it was quietly cut down and the street returned to normal as a young family nearby struggled to find its new normal.

Several weeks later a knock at our door revealed a beautiful young mother  that we did not know. Littles scurried nearby as she introduced herself and her children as part of the family whose infant son was buried recently. “We hear your family is responsible for the festive decorations in the median near our home. Our daughter squealed with delight when she saw the colorful display. We told them we would see their baby brother again because he was in heaven with our Heavenly Father. You helped them see that as something joyful to know. Thank you.”

We got to know each other better in the months and years that followed. Rarely have I seen the inner strength and peaceful confidence that she displayed in facing her tragedy. Though saddened deeply, deeper still was her trust in her dear Heavenly Father, who she spoke of frequently. Certainly, she had been prepared by trusting through other difficulties over the years to see with faith beyond the facts that others saw.

I wish you could hear her say, “If dear Heavenly Father wanted him to get better, he would have.” Dear Heavenly Father was said with such tenderness, affection, and intimacy that it would take your breath away. She was not repeating something she had merely heard or read but something she knew and had known and would continue to rely on as real and true with all her being.

This happened almost a decade ago. Now we are in the beginnings of a national whirlwind as our leaders scramble to head off the worst of a global pandemic. So much is unknown. So much is changing. So much is being exposed. Who we are and who we trust is being squeezed out of us like toothpaste  from a tube. Or if we have done the work of preparation, what is being squeezed out can be an ointment bringing healing, bringing hope, bringing dear Heavenly Father into our tragedy.

Truly this time together can be a gift. A fresh beginning without  the distraction of hurry blurring what and who is important. We can see others and ourselves more clearly. If what we see is not what we hoped, there is time for renewal, repair, restoration.