Inflate The Balloon

I watched the mother and her little boy as they stood near the deli counter.
I listened as she gave him instructions; it was apparent that he wanted to do the ordering.
He listened attentively to his mother telling him the amount of ham and cheese he was to get.
I could see him practicing it in his head, his lips moving silently.

A pound of American cheese and a half pound of ham, the mother told him.
I knew that this little kindergarten aged boy would remember.
I could tell this was very important to him.
I could tell that if he did this right, he would suddenly feel very grown up.

Number 11, the woman yelled from behind the counter.
I saw the little boy look down at the pink paper in his hand.
I saw the number 11 written on it.
That’s me, he said raising the pink paper above his head.

He was too little for the woman to see him properly.
His mother had moved over to the bakery section, keeping her eye on him.
What do you want? The woman seemed to bark as she tried to peer over the counter.
He seemed a bit intimidated and I didn’t blame him.

I would like a pound of American cheese, please, he said smiling at the way it rhymed.
White or yellow? She barked again.
I don’t know, he said looking like a balloon that was deflating before my eyes.
White or yellow? The woman said again in annoyance.

He dropped his pink paper and turned to find his mother.
Kids! She said with frustration and anger.
At that same moment another person called number 12, which was my number.
The person was kind and pleasant; how I wished the little boy had gotten this person.

I ordered the cheese I needed for the hamburgers that we would be grilling.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that the little boy was visibly upset.
I saw his mom talking to him, bending down to his level.
I saw her hugging her little boy and encouraging him with her words.

I finished and walked to the produce section.
I saw the mom approach the deli counter with her little boy.
He had a new pink paper in his hand.
Number 14, the person called out.

With a small nudge, the little boy said, That’s me.
I turned around and saw that the nice person who waited on me was now waiting on him.
What can I get for you young man? the person asked kindly.
What a big boy you are to order all by yourself, she continued.

Everything from before seemed to have been forgotten.
I’m five, the little boy said proudly.
Well, I’m impressed that a five year old boy can be as mature and helpful as you, she said.
I watched the balloon visibly inflate.

I selected large tomatoes for slicing and watched the little boy.
I would like a pound of American cheese and a half pound of ham, he said quickly.
I bet you would like white American cheese, the kind woman said.
I saw his mother shaking her head as the little boy answered, Yes, please.

The kind woman behind the counter turned back to the little boy.
Since you are such an amazing helper, would you like a slice of cheese?
Yes, please, the little boy said smiling.
The balloon inflated to the point of bursting.

It only took a minute.
It only took a little extra effort to be kind.
It only took a little imagination to remember what it is like to be five years old.
It only took a moment to realize that it is not easy to be small in an adult world.

I thought of this as I watched a short video.
It was almost the same scenario, except the video took place in a school.
Narrated by a little boy, I watched from his perspective as he went about his day.
I cringed as I heard the short responses, the annoyance, and the refusal to listen.

I watched the video and was so upset to think that is often our default.
We have so much to accomplish, there is no time for niceties.
We are always in a rush that we miss the little ones that are clamoring for our attention.
If only we saw ourselves, we might make some adjustments.

If only we heard ourselves, we might soften our tone.
If only we saw the deflated child standing before us, we would apologize for our abruptness.
If only we knew.
If only we were able to see and hear what we sound like from time to time.

Jesus always had time.
Jesus always met people where they were whether it was inconvenient for Him or not.
Jesus was often detoured and interrupted, yet He never complained.
Jesus saw those times as moments of opportunity.

So should we.
Nothing we have to do is more important than the heart of a child.
Nothing we have to accomplish is that urgent that we couldn’t give them a few extra minutes.
Nothing has more of a lasting impact than the kind, encouraging words we say to a child.

Be wise in the way you act towards outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. (Colossians 4:5,6)

Full of grace.
Seasoned with salt.
Inflate the balloon.
It only takes a little extra time.

2 responses to “Inflate The Balloon”

1. Regina, this has special significance for my teacher’s heart. A young teacher commented to me once that she told her parents at back-to-school night that she would always speak to their children as if the parents were present. I was never one to be harsh, but this gave me a beautiful perspective.

   Your words today touch me the same way. My goal? Use only words that I would use in His presence, for He IS present.

   Reply

   • Cathy,
     You and I share the same goal. Words are so important to a little heart and to an older heart, as well. If we just took the time to realize how much our words impact another person, we would be more careful with what we say and how we say it. God hears and that alone should make a difference in the way we speak.
     Regina

     Reply