The Balloon Ministry: A Sign of Blessed Assurance

Recently our family had the honor of being a part of the invisible connection between Heaven and Earth, and I'm not quite sure how to express my awe and wonder besides writing about it.

Anyone with small children at our Catholic church most certainly knows about the "Balloon Man." As soon as Mass concluded, he would begin to blow up (usually yellow smiley face) balloons to distribute to the kids in attendance. This typically resulted in joyful children chasing balloons around the sanctuary, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Kind of disrupted the reverence of the service...but I think that was the point. It's hard to say whose smile was the biggest: the children or the Balloon Man.

A little over a month ago, we learned that the Balloon Man had suddenly passed away.

A day or two later, our family went out to dinner and the events that followed can only be explained through the lens of divine intervention. 

After dinner, as we were passing through the restaurant from the patio, we were stopped by a kindly gentleman who asked if he could share bright yellow smiley face balloons with the kids. Independent of each other, both Jon and I instantly were reminded of the Balloon Man and of course had to say yes. Jon's comment was that he only ever knew of two people who carried around balloons to share with children: the man in the restaurant and the Balloon Man. It's no coincidence that meeting that man happened right after hearing about the death of the Balloon Man.

Jon was so moved that he felt called to pay for the man's dinner. We've told the girls a number of times that when you do kind things for others, what often happens is that kindness comes back to you. Having another person pay for a meal as a result of a simple act like giving a balloon to a child was a very concrete way of showing them that.

I was so moved that I felt called to email our priest and tell him this story, asking him to please share it with the Balloon Man's family...which he did during the homily of the funeral Mass.

What happened next gives me chills in the very best way.

You see, when the son of the Balloon Man heard this story, he began to connect the dots, realizing that he was in fact the kindly gentleman in the restaurant that night.

He and his sister were out for dinner after an emotionally exhausting day of cleaning out their father's house. One of the items he found was his dad's stash of yellow smiley face balloons. When he saw Erik toddle through the restaurant, he was reminded of his now-teenaged son and decided to share a balloon with him.

We have attended this church since moving to Memphis, and the Balloon Man and his family much longer. We've seen the Balloon Man's son and family countless times, but out of context, in masks, after not attending services in-person for months, turned the encounter into an interaction between strangers. I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't recognize him, but upon reflection, I don't think I was supposed to.

Once the Balloon Man's son figured out the connection, he contacted us, but it wasn't until we ran into each other after Mass--(not) coincidentally our very first service back in over a year--that the story was revealed. We were all visibly moved by the realization.

Shortly after losing my own dad many years ago, our priest at the time told us that we would receive signs from him, often in unexpected ways. He called these "signs of blessed assurance," and I know that each of us has our own stories of how that has come to fruition. Even now, whenever I hear a certain song on the radio or see a flock of geese honking across the sky, I am filled with the knowledge that my dad is watching over me and letting me know that all is going to be okay.

I feel very strongly that the Balloon Man was sending his family, particularly his grieving son, a sign of blessed assurance that night in the restaurant, and I am infinitely grateful that we were allowed to play a small part.

"Snow" Much Fun!

 As I sit on our deck enjoying this beautiful spring day, it's hard to believe that only two months ago all of the surfaces currently covered with yellow-green pollen dust were covered in glittering white snow. What would be considered an ordinary winter snow for all my Midwest family and friends turned Memphis into a winter wonderland, and we enjoyed every bit* of it.

*We did not enjoy the boil order that was a result of low water pressure and burst pipes in the city. It did provide good disaster practice, though, so there's that.*

Memphis rarely receives more than a dusting of snow, so there was much excitement when the white stuff began to fall around the long President's Day weekend. Jon had already planned to take a couple of extra days off, and his timing couldn't have been more perfect. I think he had more fun than anyone.

Showing off their "ice globes"

Ski lessons with Dad

Erik's primary mode of transportation

With temperatures below freezing for over a week, any snow that fell was guaranteed to stick, and we certainly took advantage of it. No one around here is really prepared for snow, but through the generosity of our neighbors and a little ingenuity, we had all the gear and toys we needed to have a great time.

By the end of the week, we had getting dressed in our snow clothes down to a science. At least once a day--sometimes twice--we put on layers upon layers (topped with a few bread bags over hands and feet), which kept everyone dry and toasty warm.

We're in there somewhere under all those layers

The neighborhood streets never did get plowed, which was okay for us because by now we're used to having nowhere to go. But we didn't need to go anywhere because the neighborhood kids turned a hill at the park across the street into a pretty sweet sledding hill. Dubbed "Penguin Hill," the kids (and some adults) had a blast figuring out ways to get down via sled, snowboard, laundry basket, cardboard box, etc.

Who needs a sled when you can slide on your belly like a penguin?

My favorite part about Penguin Hill was the sense of community and camaraderie. We rarely made official plans to meet, but there was always someone there ready for fun in the snow. At some point, we volunteered ourselves to host the "Penguin Hill Hot Chocolate Shoppe," and by the third or fourth day, we were serving hot chocolate to kids we didn't even know. It was delightful.

We did venture out for one last romp in the snow before it melted, loading up the skis, makeshift sleds, and Erik's trusty laundry basket for a trip to the Mississippi River. Memphis being Memphis meant that we ran into some friends there, too, which only increased our fun. 

A sight not often seen in Memphis

The only downside to this adventure was that we neglected to put on sunscreen and have the girls wear eye protection, resulting in some pretty nasty snowburn. But we learned our lesson and will be ready for the next time...in another 5-10 years.