Hands of the Angels Came to the Rescue

With nose scrunched upward and eyes scanning me up and down, my brutally honest granddaughter groaned a sigh of disappointment as she demanded to know, “Mom-Mom, is THAT what you’re wearing?”
Well, it wasn’t really an outfit, so I understood her reaction. You see, it was rainy and dismal outside; and I had decided that sweatpants, an old T-shirt, and flip-flops matched the conditions of the day—as well as the state of my heart.
But I dare not explain that to her; those emotions are best saved for grown- ups.
I responded, quite amused, “Why, yes, Alivia, what’s the problem?”
Dressed in her fashionable jeans with a diva scarf tossed loosely around her neck, she crossed her arms against her glittering sparkle-shirt and replied, “Well, it’s Daddy’s birthday. I thought you would dress up for his party.”
I wasn’t exactly thinking of the day as a “party,” but I was standing with a bouquet of colorful balloons; therefore, a person could certainly appreciate where she got that impression. My earthly perspective needed some heavenly adjustment.
It was a celebration—her Daddy’s birthday—and we were going to his memorial tree to send six balloons off to the heavens. Since Liv is now 5 years old, she would get to send up five requests to Jesus to give to Daddy, and one special Mylar balloon sent straight to her dad.
She radiated excitement, while my inner being reflected the overcast sky.
It was obvious—as she squeezed her eyes shut, head bowed in prayer, balloon bobbing at the end of its ribbon—that she was taking this ceremony quite seriously.
After a few moments, she opened her eyes, looked skyward, and released the balloon. She did not unfix her gaze until the balloon had lifted beyond the clouds, and she was confident that its journey was accomplished.
And so the ritual went, until it was time to release Balloon No. 4. Unexpectedly, she turned to me and said, “Mom Mom, you send this one up. Daddy wants you to do one.”
With tear-filled eyes, I said, “Liv, thank you, what a great idea. But why don’t we make this request together? You help me decide. What should we ask?”
Again, moments lapsed under her typically intense concentration when she whispered, “Let’s ask Jesus for an ice-cream cake for Daddy.” An ice-cream cake—her daddy’s favorite (and hers).
Finally, the special Mylar. I had intentionally built up the excitement for the grand finale. I had described how the angels were going to share the balloons, but NOT this special Mylar.
This balloon Daddy would carry around all day, telling everyone about his special little Princess Alivia, who resides on Earth.
With eyes dancing, delighting in every imagined visual of my little story, she thought long and hard about that last wish.
However, as she released the balloon, it didn’t soar like the others. Instead, it meandered slowly and then headed straight for the nearby electrical wires. Immediately, I started dispatching a silent prayer. This balloon just had to go upward.
Neither the elements nor the wires could be allowed to burst her dream of being a part of Daddy’s life on this special day.
And just like that, the floundering Mylar seemed to gain sudden strength as it rose above the wires and sailed through the clouds.
At that moment, I fully appreciated why childlike faith is so pleasing to the Lord—because some may say it was an updraft that caught the balloon, but I am pretty sure I saw the hands of angels coming to the rescue.