Kites and stones
Wind whipped around the corner of the house, slapping trees and bending the grass on our small rural acreage. It was an ideal day for Poppa to teach our eager seven-year-old grandson, Taylor, how to fly his new kite.
The giant yellow, orange, and black vinyl bird lay writhing on the ground, seemingly impatient to escape captivity, while Poppa’s arms encircled the child in hands-on instruction. After several false starts the kite took off with great speed – only to come crashing down..jpg)
Poppa rewound and secured the string on the rod and corrected the boy’s grip. He ordered Taylor to hang on tight, and to run with the kite.
“Don’t let go!” he shouted as a gust of wind whirled the kite upwards. But the wooden holder with its sturdy cord was ripped from Taylor’s hands and painfully creased Poppa’s palm as he lunged for it. He jumped back, yelping and letting go.
Both watched in dismay as the kite hovered above the gravel road, skimmed the trees, soared over a highway, and disappeared in a distant field.
Heartbroken, the boy began to cry. Poppa said nothing as he pulled the printed manual out of his pocket and read the instructions. “It says here you should weigh 60 pounds before trying to fly the kite,” he announced. “How much do you weigh, Taylor?”
The child wanted desperately to be master of the big bird; even more, he wanted to weigh 61 pounds. His eyes met Poppa’s questioning gaze. “Fifty pounds,” he admitted, shaken, but hopeful.
“Hmmm. It looks as though we’ll have to fill your pockets with stones then,” Poppa joked gruffly as he gestured for Taylor to remain behind, and headed towards the field on a search and rescue mission.
After long minutes had passed, Poppa returned dangling the kite. Its glorious wings were tattered and its tail of string pathetically tangled. He began the task of winding up the cord, signalling an end to the outing.
“Please, Poppa,” Taylor pleaded, “can’t we try again? Just once more? Please!”
Poppa eyed him solemnly as he continued winding. “So, are you going to hang on this time?” Taylor nodded fiercely.
“Okay, let’s do it then.”
Once again the wind caught the kite and spun it swiftly upward to enormous height. Just as rapidly, the wooden holder and string sprang from Taylor’s hands and followed the fleeing bird. Both stared in stunned disbelief.
Poppa turned to Taylor. “What on earth happened? Why did you let go this time? You had it just right!” he exclaimed.
Giant tears trickled down the young boy’s cheeks. “I had to let go.”
Poppa didn’t understand. “But why?” he persisted, more gently this time.
“My pants were falling down,” Taylor sobbed as he clutched the waist of his trousers with both hands.
Only then did Poppa notice the bulging pockets. He reached in and found them – hundreds of small stones – gathered from the roadway while he had gone to fetch the renegade kite.
According to the Bible there is a time for everything … even a time to gather stones. (Ecclesiastes 3:5). And sometimes, despite our best efforts, there is good reason for failure.
The giant yellow, orange, and black vinyl bird lay writhing on the ground, seemingly impatient to escape captivity, while Poppa’s arms encircled the child in hands-on instruction. After several false starts the kite took off with great speed – only to come crashing down.
Poppa rewound and secured the string on the rod and corrected the boy’s grip. He ordered Taylor to hang on tight, and to run with the kite.
“Don’t let go!” he shouted as a gust of wind whirled the kite upwards. But the wooden holder with its sturdy cord was ripped from Taylor’s hands and painfully creased Poppa’s palm as he lunged for it. He jumped back, yelping and letting go.
Both watched in dismay as the kite hovered above the gravel road, skimmed the trees, soared over a highway, and disappeared in a distant field.
Heartbroken, the boy began to cry. Poppa said nothing as he pulled the printed manual out of his pocket and read the instructions. “It says here you should weigh 60 pounds before trying to fly the kite,” he announced. “How much do you weigh, Taylor?”
The child wanted desperately to be master of the big bird; even more, he wanted to weigh 61 pounds. His eyes met Poppa’s questioning gaze. “Fifty pounds,” he admitted, shaken, but hopeful.
“Hmmm. It looks as though we’ll have to fill your pockets with stones then,” Poppa joked gruffly as he gestured for Taylor to remain behind, and headed towards the field on a search and rescue mission.
After long minutes had passed, Poppa returned dangling the kite. Its glorious wings were tattered and its tail of string pathetically tangled. He began the task of winding up the cord, signalling an end to the outing.
“Please, Poppa,” Taylor pleaded, “can’t we try again? Just once more? Please!”
Poppa eyed him solemnly as he continued winding. “So, are you going to hang on this time?” Taylor nodded fiercely.
“Okay, let’s do it then.”
Once again the wind caught the kite and spun it swiftly upward to enormous height. Just as rapidly, the wooden holder and string sprang from Taylor’s hands and followed the fleeing bird. Both stared in stunned disbelief.
Poppa turned to Taylor. “What on earth happened? Why did you let go this time? You had it just right!” he exclaimed.
Giant tears trickled down the young boy’s cheeks. “I had to let go.”
Poppa didn’t understand. “But why?” he persisted, more gently this time.
“My pants were falling down,” Taylor sobbed as he clutched the waist of his trousers with both hands.
Only then did Poppa notice the bulging pockets. He reached in and found them – hundreds of small stones – gathered from the roadway while he had gone to fetch the renegade kite.
According to the Bible there is a time for everything … even a time to gather stones. (Ecclesiastes 3:5). And sometimes, despite our best efforts, there is good reason for failure.
—Ruby Cleroux
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