There is something special about balloons in the sky. I remember as a child gazing up in amazement when I would see colours dispersed across the blank sea of blue wondering how someone could so willingly let go. I remember the stronger grip I developed on the tiny string wrapped tightly around my hand. I admired the freedom of the flying balloons. Once let go, they were willed into new heights and I would watch their peaceful graceful entrance into the universe desiring to follow. But for some reason, I could never let go. I was comforted by its security safe on my arm. I was happy to watch the way others would fly but never letting my own. Until one day I let go. One day casting out fear and apprehension, I made a decision in my heart to let the balloon fly away. I watched it with a new sense of ownership and attachment will its way high up where I could never go alone. But liberated by a sense of freedom I trusted that God would take care of my little balloon and would never have to fear. I was comforted in knowing that someone else would see this balloon and too cherish its freedom. I was liberated in knowing that this little balloon might inspire someone else to let go and watch where God would take them until the balloon was out of our sight and mind from the world but a legacy left on someones heart.
Lots of love, the girl in the secret garden xx
you must be a bird hater. obviously this post is about bird genocide. you should be ashamed of yourself.
:p