In the coming year, let’s recover faith in those things worthy of faith.
My youngest daughter was three years old when she discovered the helium balloons in our local supermarket, handed out free to any child who asks. I tied the string around her wrist so the precious balloon wouldn’t escape up to the rafters.
She bounced the balloon on its string as we navigated the aisles, while I tugged it this way and that to avoid bumping other shoppers. She hugged it as we climbed into the car for the ride home.
The moment I pulled into our driveway, my daughter flew out of the car, her balloon bobbing along behind her. She raced in through the front door and out again into our back yard, slipped the string off her wrist, then watched her balloon rise into the sky and slowly drift away.
“Why did you let go of your balloon?” I asked, slightly miffed that she had so casually cast away the new toy she had been fussing over for the last half hour.
My daughter just shrugged, giggled, and watched the balloon disappear from sight.
After our next trip to the market, she did it again. And so on and on, over and over for months. Every time I asked the same question. “Why did you let go of your balloon?”
Finally, I got an answer.