When a Dead Balloon is not just a Dead Balloon

A Modern day Fairytale

Gretchen burst in the back door after school and dropped her books on the kitchen table.  "Hey Mom!  My birthday is coming up next week.  I was wondering if I could have some friends over to spend the night?"  As she spoke, she kept her back turned.  It had taken her days to work up the courage to ask this favor.

"You?"  the tone was condescending.  "You have friends?"  Not waiting for Gretchen's reply, her mother continued, "You are such a dreamer!  Even if you did have friends, we don't have time for a party!  Missy and Bo both have out of town basketball games next weekend.  You know we are all going to cheer them on."

"I'm not," Gretchen replied flatly, fighting back tears.  "I'll be 17 and I'm not going anywhere.

"Have it your way.  It will be one less meal to buy."  Her mother turned back to decorating cupcakes, "Missy is having several girls over tonight.  Maybe you can find someplace to go."

Gretchen scooped up her books and sprinted to her room.  Her mother hadn't even asked.  She had told.  'Retch, as her mother called her, wasn't even welcome to eat with the family -- not when Missy or Bo had friends over.  Throwing herself on her bed, she cried silently.

She certainly was a dreamer!  What had made her hope that her birthday would be excuse enough to be treated like a member of the family?  Even for one night? 

Groping beneath her pillow she found the long expired helium balloon she was looking for and read the message attached to it:

May this balloon bring you the fortune you wish for and destruction upon those who long to harm you.  ~Shelly

Shelly had been her best friend, and their freshman year of school they had been into blessings and curses.  They made them up for every occasion and every gift, but Shelly's family had been in a boating accident and Shelly hadn't survived.

This was the only gift she had received for her 15th birthday and the last gift she had been allowed to have.  Her parents gave her nothing, and gifts from her grandparents had been "redistributed" -- to her sister.

While her siblings were given new cloths for every occasion, she bought her own with babysitting funds -- the only job she was allowed to have.  The last time her mother had taken her shopping, it was at a second hand store that wreaked of cigarette smoke -- $1/grocery bag full!  And she had been called an ungrateful brat when she had refused to take anything home.

Rebellious.  Ungratefully.  'Retch.  That was how her mother described her.  But away from home, no one thought that of her.

Her teachers said she was bright.  Her friends said she was creative, and no one laughed at her dreams.

Realizing she would never be a sports star and go to college on a track scholarship, as her patents dreamed for her, she turned her attention to art and dreamed her own dreams.  Laying on her back, staring at the ceiling, she realized life was going to require more of her than just dreaming for herself.  She was going to have to believe in those dreams for herself.

Clutching the dead balloon to her chest, she fell asleep and as she slept, she dreamed of Shelly.

"May this balloon bring you the fortune you wish for..."  Giggling, she handed it over.

Grinning at the balloon floating above her head, Gretchen began to chant, "I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

It had been the last time a friend had been allowed to sleep over.  Two weeks later, Shelly was gone.

Gretchen awoke.  The house was quiet.  Everyone else was asleep.  Her stomach rumbled.  She hadn't eaten since breakfast, but she didn't dare venture into the kitchen.  Still holding the little balloon in her hands, she whispered, "I wish I had something to eat."

Sighing, she stuffed the balloon back under her pillow, kicked off her shoes and grabbed her books.  The only way she was going to make it out of this hell-hole was with her brains.  Flipping on the light, she started. 

There was a plate of food on her dresser -- meatloaf, mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables.  She looked around quickly, then threw her hoody in front of the door and ate greedily, fearing it would disappear at any moment.  She ate until she was full, not noticing that the amounts never diminished until she was satisfied.  Setting the empty plate down, she reached for her books.  When she was done studying, she slept again.  In the morning, the plate and silverware were gone, but her stomach was full.

She dressed quickly, stuffed the balloon with the card in her pocket, and left the house before anyone could stop her.  What ever had happened last night -- she needed time to think.

Walking thought the city par, she saw a little boy whom she often passed on her way to school playing outside.  His toes peaked out of the holes in his sneakers, and his jeans were too short, but he was clean and obviously loved.  Playing with the balloon in her pocket, she muttered "I wish I could give him something new.  It would make life so much easier for him."  Thinking of the way other students picked on him for the way he was dressed.

Finding a quiet place to sit, she reviewed her homework, then headed to school.  Opening her locker, she jerked back in surprise -- a pair of shoes and jeans that would just fit the little boy sat on top of her books.

Throwing her homework into her locker, she grabbed the clothing and sprinted back to where she had seen the child playing.  She rounded the corner just in time to see him disappeared inside on of the row houses.  She hesitated a moment, then laid the clothing in front of the door, knocked loudly and ran back to school.

That day, in Art class, the assignment was to paint a picture using objects rather than with brushes.  Looking at the offered tools, Gretchen returned to her seat, pulled out the balloon and began to paint with it.  As she painted, she dreamed of a flower garden int he country and found the picture in her mind transferred to the canvas, in an impressionistic sort of way.

When the time was up, she was satisfied with the work she had done.  Washing up the balloon, she thought about her deep seated dream of going to college on an art scholarship.  That was a dream she was wiling to share with no one.

Walking home that evening, she was rewarded to see the little boy in his new clothing, walking with pride.

Over the next few weeks, she discovered the depth of the blessing Shelly had given her.  Everything she wished for someone else appeared in her locker.  Everything she wished for herself materialized on her dresser.  Marveling at the gift, she used it sparingly, but her mother noticed a change in her.

The cutting remarks no longer seemed to have any affect.  Gretchen's babysitting jobs increased, as did her favor with her teachers and neighbors.  Everybody seemed to love the wretch, but no one praised Bo and Missy.  This is what really got to her mother, and ensited her to watch Gretchen's every move.

"Gretchen, I want you to clean the bathrooms and them make supper."

She had just entered the house.  "Yes Mom."  She set her books down on the table, shoved the balloon deeper into her pocket and hung her jacket before asking, "What am I to make?"

"Oh, what ever you like," her mother answered sweetly.  "With all of your babysitting jobs, you can afford almost anything.  How about pork tenderloin?  You know how your father loves that!  Bo's having a friend over.  Make sure you fix plenty."  The air was icy as her mother finished speaking.

Fighting back tears of rage, she began vigorously cleaning the entire house.  She knew her mother's goal was to keep her too broke to attend an art camp that summer.  She had been acting this way since Gretchen had sought permission to attend, two weeks before.

Fine.  She would show them.  Pork tenderloin!  She could do better than that.  Spreading the table with the finest cloth and setting it with the good china, she wished for a feast for her family -- salmon, t-bone steaks and lobster tails, with all the trimming.

It was all ready and waiting when the family and their friends returned from the game.  Seating themselves, Missy laughed, "I brought a friend -- 'Retch, maybe you ought to eat in your room!"

Her friend snickered, but looked ashamed.  "I don't have time to eat.  I've got a job," she lied as she fled from the house.

When she returned home after midnight, her mother was waiting up for her.  "Where did you buy those things?" she demanded.  "No one around here carries such quality and you didn't have time to go anywhere -- besides, I know you didn't cook a thing.  not a pan was used and the oven was cold."

"I wished for it," she replied flatly, as she kicked off her shoes.

"Don't lie to me, girl!"  Her mother was furious now.  "Where did you get it?"

"I stole it from that high falutin' restaurant on 7th Street -- grabbed it right out of the oven and ran all the way ho--" a hand across her face made her stop short.  Blinded by pain and humiliation, she pushed past her mother and threw herself on her bed, not realizing she had dropped the balloon.

Missy came in from the other room, where she had been hiding, "Why did you let her get away with that?" she challenged.

"I don't know."  Her mother reached for the balloon to throw it away, "And what is this scrap of trash that the ungrateful wretch hauls around?"

"Just a dead balloon," Missy commented.  "She carries it everywhere."

"What do you mean?" her mother asked suspiciously.

"She does.  Everyone at school has seen her playing with it, reading the message over and over again.  She has earned the nickname, 'The balloon girl'."

Considering Missy, she read the card, "May this balloon bring you the fortune you wish for and destruction on those who long to harm you.  ~Shelly  ...She said she wished for it.  Maybe I ought to keep this little gift from a dead friend..." She laughed to herself.  Suddenly, many things were beginning to make sense.

Gretchen woke early the next morning, dressed quickly and left the house before anyone else was awake.

Just as school was starting, she realized the balloon wasn't in her pocket.  Frantically she checked her other pockets and dug through her locker.  It wasn't there.

She'd had it when she returned home... there there had been the fight with her mother... after that, she couldn't remember.  Maybe she'd dropped it.  The thought turned her stomach.  How could she cope without it?

The day passed dreadfully slow.  Every noise grated on her.  By noon she was sick with fear and worry -- the trash was scheduled to be picked up shortly before she would get home.  Her English teacher noticed she didn't look alright, sent her to the school nurse, who sent her home.  Relieved, she ran as fast as she could -- there had been a reason her parents had dreamed of a track scholarship for her.  She knew her mother was usually gone until 1:30 int eh afternoon.  If she hurried, she would have 15-20 minutes alone.  That would be enough time to check the trash cans and the dumpster.

Bursting through the back door, she tossed her books down and grabbed the kitchen trash -- it hadn't been emptied!  Just as she began to dig, she heard her mother's voice, "Looking for something?"

The color drained from her face.  She knew by the tone of voice, her nightmares had become reality.  She turned to see her mother swinging the dead balloon by its string.  "You got sloppy.  I think I'll keep this little treasure for myself, you wretch!"  She turned on her heals and left.  Gretchen sat in the kitchen, too stunned to move.  Would the balloon work for someone else?

Looking around, she realized it would.  The living room was full of new furnishings.  New pots hung on the rack above the stove.  Her mother had been very busy!

"Like what I've done?  You were so selfish!  you kept it all to yourself -- well you'll suffer for it.  Missy called. A representative is scouting today.  I'm going to see if I can't increase her luck.  She thinks it is grand you lost this -- if it hadn't been for her, I would have just tossed it."  her mother walked out the front door, dressed in the latest fashion.  As she was going down the steps, she twisted her ankle and fell.  Grimacing, she struggled to her feet and hobbled to the new mini-van waiting by the curb.

"...And destruction upon those who long to harm you."  Shelly's words rang though Gretchen's head.  Was it possible, or was it a coincidence?

During the game, Missy repeatedly passed the ball to the wrong team, double dribbled and made so many other mistakes she was benched.  On the way home, they were in a fender bender, resulting in a ticket.

As Bo and Missy helped their mother hobble into the house, Bo begged her to give the balloon back to Gretchen before anything else happened, but she scowled at him and told him to hold his tongue.  Sitting down on the new couch, the leg under her snapped off, jolting her, then the arm she leaned against snapped, allowing her to roll onto the floor.

"Gretchen!"  Missy wailed, "Why do you always bring tragedy to out home?"

Bo stood in the unfamiliar living roon, looking helpless.  Missy had bragged to him about the balloon on the way to school that morning.  She'd told him of the card's blessing and curse.  He'd warned her not to mess with it.  He didn't think Gretchen deserved the treatment she got.  At one time he had, but he had watched his sister blossom at school and heard what others said about her.  besides, he couldn't remember a time when she had been deliberately mean to him.  now Missy -- that was another story!  He lived in fear of her.

"Missy -- it is not her fault!"  Bo shouted.  "You and Mom brought this on yourselves.  You read the curse."

Bo's outbreak startled both women.  Missy quit her hysterics and Mother sat upright.  She glared at Bo, then and evil gleam lit her eyes, "'Retch!  Bring me some scissors!" she yelled.

Gretchen had heard the commotion from her room and scampered to obey.  She grabbed the kitchen shears and took them to her mother, hardly noticing the disarray of the room, then she turned to go.

"Stay!"  The command stopped her in her tracks.  "I want you to see this, you little hell raiser!"

Gretchen turned slowly around.  "Mother, I am done with your games.  Think twice before you try to hurt me again!"

Bo wondered at his sister's bravery.

"Oh, I've thought more than twice.  I'm going to put an end to this game of yours!"  So saying, she snipped the balloon into pieces.  "Now clean up this mess, you brat!  Missy, help me to bed please."

Gretchen gathered the pieces while Bo watched.  "I'm sorry," he ventured.  "I was trying to help."

"Don't worry," she said, forcing a smile.  "One can't go through life relying on wishes."  She carried the pieces to her room and lay them on her dresser, next to the acceptance letter she had received in the mail that day.  Her painting, done with the balloon, had granted her a full ride scholarship to the college of her choice.  Fingering the pieces, she whispered, "Shelly, i wish I could share this joy with you."

In the morning, a large balloon floated above her dresser.  Attached was a card that read, "You can never become poor by giving."

A Different Perspective on Ghosts

This post has been inspired by the comments made on Girlie's blog...

A few weeks ago, early on a Sunday morning, my husband and I drove to a small town where he preaches occasionally.  It was foggy for most of the trip, when it wasn't snowing.  If it hadn't been that one of the couples in the church was moving, I don't think we would have gone, but I'm glad we made the trip.

Driving through the fog was slow going, but uneventful, until the last 15 miles or so, when I began to see yellow orbs in the fog.  Small orbs, dancing to and fro.  Masses of them everywhere.

Many orbs can be seen in this photo.

Orbs are most commonly seen by people in photos, and there is much debate as to what they are.  I see orbs on a regular basis, in all different colors and forms, and can often tell who they are.  This day, I could make no sense of them.  They didn't seem to be anyone or anything in particular, so I began muscle testing as to their origin and got an answer I never expected.  They weren't anyone or anything.  They were 'agitated energy'.

Honestly, I had no idea what to make of this answer, but there was no time to contemplate it.  When church was over, we chatted with the couple that would soon be moving, then decided to go to lunch with them, in another town.  By this time, the fog had begun to lift, and as we entered the area where I had last seen orbs a large gray thing moving through the air caught my attention:  windmills.  There were electrical generation windmills everywhere!  Suddenly, 'agitated energy' made sense, and so did many other things I had been told over the years.

Several summers ago we had a real 'ghost' problem in our house.  We were seeing 'doppelgangers' of each other all.the.time.  I remember one day, when my husband was working at home, I needed to ask him a question, so I put my shoes on just as he came in.  I tried to speak to him, but he just gave me a dirty look and headed to out bedroom for a nap.  I figured I would ask him when he got up, and kept an eye out for him.  20-30 minutes later, I heard his voice outside, and wondered how he had managed to slip past me.  I went out, and he was very happy to see me.  I asked him my question and then inquired if he had a good nap.  He looked at me strangely before replying, "I would love to take a nap, but there is no time!"

I nodded, thinking he was awfully whiny, to want two naps in the same day, but when I went back inside, I realized that he hadn't taken a nap at all -- the bed was completely undisturbed.  And the door he had shut behind him when he came in?  It was standing wide open, like I leave it.

The strangest event was seeing myself, one night when I got up to get a drink, came into the kitchen and saw myself at the sink... At the time, the only thing I remember thinking is, "This thing is getting out of hand."

It became a problem that I felt needed to be addressed when the children began accusing me of ignoring them and spending all my time at the computer.  They claimed, "We asked mom, but all she did was give us a dirty look and then go back to using the computer."  Needless to say, this was causing problems in our family, because I couldn't recall doing such, and they were doing all sorts of things they knew they shouldn't.  I finally began asking then "When?!?"  When did I ignore you?  When did you ask?  I really didn't think I was on the computer that much.  It turned out that when they thought I was ignoring them, I was really in the garden, planting, weeding, cultivating, and planning my next online article.

I talked to a friend about this, who I knew would understand.  She said, "I think I know what is going on, but let me talk to my plumbers first.  In the mean time, shut off your computer when it is not in use."  Odd answer... but okay.  I didn't really care who she talked to, as long as I got some answers.

It turned out that her plumbers are also a ghost hunters, with their own TV show.  They confirmed her thoughts, which was because I was thinking about writing, I was projecting myself to the computer, and then energy from the computer allowed 'me' to manifest. She went on to explain that excess electrical energy allowed many things to manifest.

While I have no doubt that ghosts are real, I don't think most things people call ghosts are spirits of the dead.  I remember reading one article on ghost hunting, where the author said, "Many of the ghosts you find don't realize they are dead."  How do you 'know' they are dead?  What's to say that they were ever anything but what they are?

In our master bedroom, it is easy to feel a 'something'.  I never could define what it was, but there was always an uneasy feeling or a feeling of being watched, no matter what I tried.  After talking to my friend about it, she called a friend of hers, who suggested that due to the rooms shape, it might just be random energy, not a spiritual disturbance.  In order to check the theory, she said to sprinkle salt on the carpet, which would act like crystals, defracting and dispersing the energy.  I figured it couldn't hurt, and gave it a try.  Immediately I noticed a difference.  The other day I vacuumed and forgot to re-sprinkle salt.  Within an hour, the littlest ones were running to me, "Mom, there are ghosts in your bedroom!"  No... there aren't.  It's just bad architecture... and nothing a bit of salt can't cure.

Organizing the Kitchen

This past week I put together the basic boxes for my upper cupboards in the kitchen and began installing them.  The problem with remodeling a kitchen and using it at the same time is that you can't just tear everything apart and get it done.  It is one little bit at a time.

Extra coffee supplies in bread pans.

Saturday, hubby was home, so I had him help me hang the first little cupboard, where my dishes are eventually going to go.  For now, I moved the cooking essentials to it.

I was amazed to see that 90% of what I use fit on one shelf!  That's right -- the bottom shelf, less than 24 inches wide, holds my essentials... and I have eight more feet of cabinetry to install.

Next, I cleared out the cupboards I wanted hubby to take down.  He fought with them a while and asked several times if this was really worth the work.  I assured him it was!  I don't think he believed me, but oh well.  He's only doing the heavy work.

The stuff from the cupboards covered the table, necessitating several 'picnic' style meals -- you know, when you throw a drop cloth on the living room floor and tell the family, 'Set your britches down and eat here.  Watch your foot, don't knock the pickles over!'

In between meals I got the wall space patched and painted.  Since my cupboards don't have backs, it is important to me that the wall behind them looks great.  I was ready to have hubby hang the next cupboard Sunday afternoon, but he wanted to take the family skiing and skating, so we did that instead.  I was still hoping to squeeze it in that evening... but he decided to introduce the boys to football instead.

I love the way the white walls look with the aqua ceiling.  Can't wait to get the tile back-splash up!

So, instead of feeling lost, because things weren't working out according to MY plans, I decided to do what I could -- I organized -- my way.

Um... yes, the cupboard is in the living room.

I had decided, several months, ago that when my new cupboards were in, things were going to be organized in containers, like with like, rather than sorting by size.  And there are going to be work stations.  Certain things are going to be done in certain spaces.  Every aspect of the kitchen has been designed around this, as much as was possible.

I couldn't find aqua containers -- hot pink and lime, but no aqua -- like I wanted, so I bought extra white ones and spray painted them. 

I got everything -- all the stuff that has been packed into my cupboards -- organized.  It ALL takes up less space than is available in ONE new cupboard. I'm completely amazed!

This morning, I got up, went through my normal drink coffee, check facebook/read blogs routine, and got another surprise.  Over on Tidy Mom was a kitchen organizational guide, and the baking supplies were organized just the way I had organized mine!

Extracts and food coloring in a little desk organizer are easy to pull out of the baking tub and will not get scattered.

This may seem silly, but it was very exciting to me, because it confirms that I do know how to organize and my goal of a 'neat and tidy' home is not out of reach!

A New Direction

The journey of life weaves, twists and turns.  The scenery changes day by day, season by season.

At the end of 2010, I realized a need to revamp the relationships in my life, by changing the way I related to people.  It seemed like a small change, but it turned out to be a much harder road to travel than I had guessed it would be.  In the end, though, it was worth it. 

The relationships I have today (all but one), compared to a year ago, are ever everything I had hoped they would be.  That one -- if you are reading, you know who you are -- went the way I expected it to, despite what I wanted, and I don't know that I could have done anything different.  I did everything I knew to do.

And for the last few months, I have stood at a cross road, wondering which direction to take.  Wondering if my journey was to continue, or if I should hang up my traveling hat.  Then, a month ago, the direction became clear.  It is time to turn from internal things, to external things.

It is time to focus on making my house a home -- the kind of home I always dreamed it would be.

As some of you know, I have been remodeling my kitchen for months.  A little here and a little there, as I have the time and inspiration, squeezed between homeschooling, Awana, Teakwondo, and making other things.  It is time to finish!  Get the last cabinets up, have the builder install the flooring, repaint (nearly) everything.

It is not that this idea is new, but with the me I have become, the ideas are sharp and clear.  I am no longer intimidated by everyone else's ideas. I no longer feel a need to conform or please society.  The building I do is for me and my household, not resale value.  If someone doesn't like what I have done, they can replace it! (Assuming we ever sell.) 

Besides remodeling and decorating, I want to learn to really keep house.  It's not that I don't know how to pick up after myself or clean nearly everything, but it is not a natural part of my thinking.  I am an 'out of sight, out of mind' type of person.  I forget that rooms in my house exist, if I don't see them frequently -- okay, not really truly forget, but I do forget in such a way that they might as well not exist, because they certainly are not being used the way they might. I want to change that.

I want housekeeping to come naturally, like it seemed to for one of my grandmas.  I never saw much clutter in her house.  I never saw a mess, even when making Christmas candy with her, and I never heard her mention the cleaning she had done. 

I think that last point is what strikes me most.  My mom's house was always immaculate, and my other grandmas, always clean, but they always let you know about the work they had done.  It was always a big deal, and it seemed to take more time than it should.  So, my goal is not just to learn to keep house, because I already know how, but to learn to do it effortlessly... naturally.