Balloon Pop
/I’m embarrassed - for real, I am – even after all these years. However, I need to be straight-up with you. I want you to know I have experiential knowledge of what’s at stake when stress turns you into a victim, arms flailing and words spewing while those on the sidelines shriek back in horror or worse yet … laugh! Actually, I have many such memories, but one particular day springs to mind when I think over those many times I LOST IT!
Before reading my story, imagine you are a latex balloon (a red-hot one of course). Each stress event in your day deposits a puff of air into YOU– the balloon. Here’s my real-life scenario and how it all went down.
My thirteen year old son Brandon and I were finally on the homeward trek after a difficult (did I say DIFFICULT?) day at the middle school where I taught and he was in the seventh grade. Lots of opportunities throughout my teaching day for those stressors to puff into my balloon! Students bickering, parents calling, interrupted schedules and unexpected reports had greatly increased my stress load since we’d left home at 6:30AM.
We were running on a tight schedule, and had just enough time to get home, grab a bite to eat, and head out the door for the Little Theater production starring my son as lead character. Proud mama? Yes, but agitation was trumping the pride! There was no time (did I say NO TIME?) for a hiccup in our plans. Tension mounting, nerves fraying. . . let the countdown begin!
Brandon takes a note out of his book-bag. 5 “Mom, I need a pair of white socks for the play tonight” 4 “What? Why am I just now hearing this?” 3 “I didn’t mention it because I thought I had white socks!” 2 “You DO have white socks!” 1 “Mama, I thought I did but I don’t have any white socks!” 0!
Balloon pop! It’s over!!!
Calm mom. Usually even-tempered mom, explodes when the WHITE SOCK AGITATOR pushes her over the edge. I don’t need to describe the explosion. You know what it looks like, sounds like, and how unforgettable it is for all who experience it.
Take a moment to reminisce over your last balloon pop – if you can stand the painful embarrassment of it. Then give yourself some grace and allow God to do a bit of work in your heart and soul.
From one who is a daily seeker of Peace, Joy, and Fulfillment – I can tell you the first step, and the critical step, is a desperation for your heart to mesh with the Heart of God. For much of my earlier life, STRESS had a hold on me. I tried to prevent it, manage it, organize it, and pray it away. Not until I became desperate to know God, instead of being desperate to get rid of stress . . . did life begin to change.
I don’t understand it, but I know it’s true. For me, God used the overload of stress in my life to reveal His Glory. And what a blessing! I’m living proof that coming to the end of your rope can be a blessed event, but only when it drives you to God’s Heart!
So, if you’re wallowing in guilt over those times you’ve lost it, just know that Jesus will use those moments to teach you, mellow you, and allow you to have more compassion when you witness the same kind of explosion in others.
I LOVE HIM FOR THAT!
TRUTH:
The accumulation of common daily hassles can cause your “balloon to pop” but Jesus will use it to draw you back to His Side.
APPLICATION:
If you don’t have a designated journal to scribble out your thoughts and prayers, get one. Spend some time writing about your moments of stress, then talk with your Father about helping you to become more focused on Him and His peace that lives inside of you.
SCRIPTURE:
You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and His rule. (Matthew 5:3 – The Message)
PRAYER:
Dear Father, I finally admit it. I’m desperate for You to bring peace into my life. I know my efforts can’t do it, and my love alone, is not enough. I honestly don’t understand how to deal with all of the stress that’s in my life, so I come to You – helpless and needy. You have promised to bless me when I turn to You. Here I am. I love You. In the powerfully strong Name of Jesus, Amen.
