My favorite time of year has arrived: The Great Reno Balloon Race. Dozens of hot air balloons lift off together on three consecutive mornings. They float gently over town, wherever the wind takes them, and for the past two years, it has taken them right into my neighborhood. The first time, the balloons, like a stork, dropped a gift that helped lead to my book coming out next month.
First, some background: My family has always loved hot air balloons. When I was small and living in Michigan, I remember balloons lifting off in early summer evenings. We would spot one in the distance, and then chase it in our car and try to be present when and where it landed.
I remembered this when the balloons first came to my neighborhood in 2007. I was out for a walk that morning, and several balloons floated right above me, close enough to hear the pilot and passengers talking. Their shadows seemed to chase me as I walked. I remembered following balloons years before and wondered at the way they now seemed to be following me. “That seems to be how my life has worked,” I thought. “Everything I thought I was seeking, has ended up seeking me.”
It struck me immediately how Lutheran this notion was. We may think we’re seeking God, Luther taught, but the only reason we can do that is because God has already been and will always be seeking us. Perhaps I had been formed by this grace-filled message even more deeply than I had recognized.
At that time in 2007, I was several years into a book project that had stalled. Proposals had been rejected by several publishers by that time, and in retrospect I was grateful, because the proposed book was really too big to finish. In fact, it wasn’t really a book; it was more like a description of my life work, with multiple possible books contained in it.
That September, being followed by balloons called forth one of those books: the one that says each of us has a treasure out there somewhere, and even though we may be seeking it, it is also seeking us. Now there was a book I could write–and actually finish. Within weeks the new book was outlined and a new proposal taking shape. By the time the balloons came to my house again, the manuscript was finished.
Since then, it has taken another year to figure out how to get this book off the ground. I’m publishing it myself, because I believe so strongly in this message of grace and adventure about our own journeys of seeking God, our calling, and ourselves.
The book went to the printer this week, just in time for another visit by the balloons. Today the balloons brought another gift: the realization that I don’t feel entirely like the “pilot” of this project, but more like a passenger–floating on the breeze and wondering where the wind will take the book and me.
