By Ashlie Miller

One of my earliest memories as a young girl is being outside with my mother and baby brother. I had a bright yellow balloon in hand from my dentist visit, but whether it slipped from my wrist or I accidentally released it, the yellow orb drifted away. It felt like a slow-motion view of something happening quickly. I remember asking my mom if she could reach it for me. She was realistic but kind with her reply. I then thought that perhaps she could get a ladder to grab it. Still, the answer was no.

They say our earliest memories are pretty foundational to how we see things. I guess I have always been looking for yellow balloons. They are the cheeriest of colors, radiating with sunshine and joy. I am pretty serious; some may even call me intense when they first meet me. Introverted and painfully shy as a child, I was slow to warm up and willing to sit in the wings and wait my turn, unless a bright, bubbly thing noticed me and invited me into the excitement.

I call these people my “yellow balloons.” They are the ones who are usually very optimistic, exuberant, joy-filled dreamers, hope-filled encouragers, often spontaneous, entering a room with a bright smile, never meeting a stranger, sometimes with a healthy dose of FOMO (fear of missing out) – much to my opposite.

They have helped me through life. Several have seen something in me that could handle a job or opportunity I would not have sought. Others have pushed me toward fun or challenges I would have let pass. They make me belly laugh at their silliness and fearless approach to humor, even in public. Their optimism and hopefulness of the future challenge me to be the same.

But, they need me, too. What am I? I affectionally call myself the balloon weight that keeps the balloon grounded at the party. I have my own pizzaz – or rather, interest. I help keep my balloons in place so they don’t drift off into ways beyond reality. I bring my own flavor of encouragement when windy and cloudy days come, reminding them of seasons and the beauty in each and the promise of their end. I stick to plans and goals, find connections, and help them to figure out how to make dreams come true. I remind them of truth when emotions blow them into storms. I am slower and more deliberate at times, helping them slow down, enjoy Sabbath, and notice small wonders in life.

We need each other for balance. Sometimes it looks like a true marriage of opposites – a covenant recognizing the need for dependence on another for a lifetime. At other times, it is a held-fast friendship. The dynamic can even show up in mentoring, coaching, and teaching relationships. Both gain wisdom and encouragement from the other.

If we are surrounded only by those like us (all balloons or all balloon weights), it becomes a silly mess. We were not made to drift about or be inflexible. Are you a yellow balloon with your head in the clouds? Call your steady balloon weight and thank them for keeping you grounded. Are you the steady weight in a relationship? Text or send a note to your yellow balloon and thank them for stretching you a little and helping you dream.

Ashlie Miller lives with a few of her favorite yellow balloons in Concord, NC. You can email her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.