There was a restaurant we went to on Sunday afternoons that used to give the kids balloons as we left. Both Henry and Grace had moments where the wind whisked those balloons out of their hands. I can still remember it stopping them in their tracks as they looked up at the sky to watch their balloon dancing away out of their reach, and the look on their faces as they watched in wonder at this graceful dance, and then the crumpling of their faces as they realized what had been lost. Henry especially took this lesson to heart and would walk ever so carefully out of the restaurant with a death grip on his balloon string that was wound tight around his fist, fingernails white with pressure.
I feel like Henry, holding tight to my dreams that feel as elusive as balloons on a windy day. I have been holding so tight to the strings tying me to my dreams. I too have a death grip on them, fingernails white with pressure. I don't want them to be whisked away by the winds. I don't want to be left empty handed, arms outstretched and broken hearted at my loss as I watch them dance away. But I've been feeling the pull of the wind on those dreams; I can feel the strings being pulled taut. And I know it's time to let them go.
And those winds of change that have felt so fierce and harsh at times is beginning to feel like a gentle breeze, whispering encouragement in my ear. Almost coaxing my hand open, promising to carry those dreams upward to the sun where they won't necessarily be realized, but they will be cared for. And I can feel myself starting to believe, starting to feel the warmth of the sun and see the beauty of the skies. And slowly, my heart is starting to trust enough to know that when I let go, they will form this beautiful dance in the clouds of broken dreams and unrealized hopes... and even in their brokenness, it will still be beautiful.
I just can't seem to release them just yet. I don't want to be left empty handed. I'm still working on saying goodbye to them; they still feel like a part of me. But it's okay, because I know I'll be ready someday. I think I've been trying to force myself to let go these past few weeks, but some things can't be rushed. I don't want to let go before it's time. I don't want to be mad at the wind or anyone else for stealing away my dreams. I would rather be the one to release them. Not just yet... but, soon.
I feel like Henry, holding tight to my dreams that feel as elusive as balloons on a windy day. I have been holding so tight to the strings tying me to my dreams. I too have a death grip on them, fingernails white with pressure. I don't want them to be whisked away by the winds. I don't want to be left empty handed, arms outstretched and broken hearted at my loss as I watch them dance away. But I've been feeling the pull of the wind on those dreams; I can feel the strings being pulled taut. And I know it's time to let them go.
And those winds of change that have felt so fierce and harsh at times is beginning to feel like a gentle breeze, whispering encouragement in my ear. Almost coaxing my hand open, promising to carry those dreams upward to the sun where they won't necessarily be realized, but they will be cared for. And I can feel myself starting to believe, starting to feel the warmth of the sun and see the beauty of the skies. And slowly, my heart is starting to trust enough to know that when I let go, they will form this beautiful dance in the clouds of broken dreams and unrealized hopes... and even in their brokenness, it will still be beautiful.
I just can't seem to release them just yet. I don't want to be left empty handed. I'm still working on saying goodbye to them; they still feel like a part of me. But it's okay, because I know I'll be ready someday. I think I've been trying to force myself to let go these past few weeks, but some things can't be rushed. I don't want to let go before it's time. I don't want to be mad at the wind or anyone else for stealing away my dreams. I would rather be the one to release them. Not just yet... but, soon.
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