Changing the World
Balloons were being handed out to eager tots as part of a local store celebration. As cheerful balloons bobbed and weaved down the aisles, grasped by appreciative children, I couldn’t help hoping the adults would tie the balloons to something…the shopping cart, the child’s wrist, mom’s purse, something to keep the balloon from heading toward the ceiling.
It seems guaranteed that free items randomly handed to children at events such as carnivals, parades, and store celebrations, are going to give momentary pleasure with a strong chance of heartbreak. Balloons are the worst.
As a parent, I wince when I see balloons being given out. While balloons are wonderful, their bright, cheery orbs bouncing as a child yanks the string, I know my stress level is about to skyrocket. Each of my four children is going to request a balloon. I know my heart will break when at least two of the balloons soar to freedom amid the kind of screams heard only in jungles or while standing next to heartbroken toddlers.
As was to be expected, not far into the store, a little one was screaming in dismay and absolute heartbreak as his mother took him farther and farther from the yellow balloon that had escaped his grasp. Despite her repeated assurances that she would get him another balloon, he stared with overflowing eyes at the jaunty balloon. The balloon floated, just barely out of his mother’s reach…the ribbon’s end curling and swaying teasingly in a draft. For some reason, it had stopped just above the tops of the cereal boxes on the top row.
As the boy and his mother turned the corner to the next aisle, those of us standing there realized we also would be unable to reach the ribbon’s end. Then one woman said to her little son standing next to her, “Come on, let’s help!” She snatched him up and lifted him toward the balloon. “A little more, almost,” he kept saying, as the balloon’s ribbon played games on his fingertips.
Every one of us watched, almost spellbound, as the boy’s hand kept coming within a whisper of the ribbon’s end. The cries of the balloon-less boy stormed to our ears from the next aisle. As it is with the loss of many things, the boy didn’t want a new balloon, he wanted that balloon.
Then, finally, triumph! The balloon was recaptured and rushed to the crying boy as those watching murmured what a nice thing had been done by the rescuers.
Random acts of kindness and empathy, such as this, nourish and enrich us all. Reuniting balloon and boy was not perhaps an important event in the world scheme of things, yet there is no telling where the ripples of kindness from this small act will travel to, what they may cause to change, who has been affected.
The chance to become a hero can sometimes come along so unexpectedly and quietly, that it is easy to miss. It is the simplicity in life, the quiet moments of decision to do good that make heroes – no matter how small the act.