Just wait.

We have a new tradition in my family. When we celebrate a birthday, we pen a wish and tie it to a balloon.
Then we send them off into the wild blue yonder.*

Tonight we sent Jason's birthday balloons off just as the sun had set. I like to stay out and watch them until they disappear from view. I want see our wishes safely off.

It made me think back to when we went into the canyon with some family for a birthday dinner by campfire. Behind the trees surrounding our fire pit was a large clearing. It was walled in on one side by a smallish mountain that sort of loomed over us and blocked the sun. A seemingly perfect spot for our balloon send-off.

As we released our balloons they moved skyward, but slowly. A few refused to leave us at all (to the happiness of the little ones). We waited and watched, enchanted in seeing our hopes raised heavenward, but a little uneasy about whether they would even make it to the edge of the cliffs.

And then, our little colored spots floated just beyond the mountain wall. Now in the wind's path, they shot up and away into the atmosphere.
We cheered.

I realized that this was not the first time I have watched wishes wandering their way upward. Truer still, some heartfelt hopes never make it off the ground. It seems to me that the deepest, and sometimes the most secret wishes of our hearts are the ones that have the hardest time cresting cloud nine, or even catching a glimpse of seventh heaven. As we send these hopes out and up we hold our breath, wondering why they only seem to be hovering.

There was a mountain in the way.
We had to just wait and watch until that mountain wasn't there anymore.
Not because we moved it, but because
we

rose

above

it.

*yes, I shamelessly stole this idea from Nie.
But I don't feel too bad.
The world could use a little more of her magic.