Everybody called her Little Miss Happy.
Was that her real name?
Nobody knew …and in fact, nobody could imagine anything else fitting …so the name stayed, settling victoriously in its place with no other rival to argue its ownership.
In fact, nobody even knew that Little Miss Happy existed until a drippy, foggy day on Main Street.
It was the usual mayhem. Mothers attempted to keep their eyes at all places on their heads, while children became distracted by anything and nothing. Gentlemen took strides as though they were on a triathlon against time, using their phones as hand-held weapons against buckling schedules.
Several stray birds dripped with mournful chirps as they fluttered and attempted to find a dry spot to rest. And even the well-loved baker at the popular corner shop ran into misfortune and was continually apologizing to his customers for running out of coffee.
Streaks of murky color slid like watery glass into the reflections of traffic lights over the asphalt, and the sounds of skidding breaks drizzled into the dampness, curling the edges with auditory vinegar.
I don’t think anyone expected to see it. Certainly not the business man hurtling himself into the moving tram car and squeezing past several oblivious pedestrians in his haste.
It wasn’t until he raised his phone to answer the next urgent call that his fingers slipped from the moisture heavy air and caused his phone to drop.
A sudden pop of color dazzled his gaze and then two merry eyes.
A child’s laugh broke the grumbling chatter of the work-transit tram, and a sudden hush fell over the passengers.
There wasn’t much time to pause though. Like any dutiful tram, it had already stopped for its next pickup, and as though it had all been a dream, the little girl and her colorful balloon were gone.
Several skips landed her down from the tram’s steps and several more jumps took her to the sidewalk.
It was a bustling sidewalk–a main thoroughfare in the middle of town. It bore an unmistakable mainstream fashion …navy, black and gray. For some unique reason, everyone had seemed disposed to match the aurora of the day in their clothing choices.
Women wore gray hats while clutching dark navy purses. The men looked dignified in black suits while grappling large black briefcases …it even seemed as though only the moody-colored cars made their appearance under the street signs and bicycles looked determined to camouflage themselves wherever they went.
But it didn’t seem to matter to Happy.
She skipped forward, dodging dripping branches and spinning bikes.
It was a slightly unique sight amongst the drabness of the busy streets. Blond pigtails bouncing, a pink balloon keeping time with her eager steps …many later wondered why they did not notice the startling sight.
Each time Little Miss Happy skipped, she would halt and look to her right, her left, or above her head.
However, this routine was briefly broken when she rounded the next corner.
Her playful gait suddenly turned to a run until she stopped before a fruit stand. Bending to reach beside one of the holders, she pulled out a colorful balloon. This she added to her first one.
Immediately, she resumed her happy stroll.
But she still looked.
She still watched.
She still searched.
This time, she dodged several pedestrians, circled a fountain and entered a small park. Crouching down next to a garbage can, she paused.
And for just a moment, a look of pity framed her face. A little balloon, looking sickly and woebegone, hid shamefacedly behind the dirty green garbage container.
With a twinkle springing into her eye and a smile breaking over her face, Little Miss Happy reached out and grabbed the string of the balloon.
As it joined the others it began to take a brighter luster and to grow a little bigger.
On Little Miss Happy skipped. One time she picked up a balloon amongst an array of beautiful flowers. Another time she found one hiding by the hospital’s door. And another she found at the baker’s …sitting next to a row of his fresh doughnuts. As she left, a smile flickered over the troubled man’s face.
A balloon wrapped around an aged and forgotten tree was soon quickly unwrapped with Happy’s eager hands and as she left, the tree seemed to grow a little greener.
Several flurried, late-to-work cleaning employees found themselves actually smiling at each other as Happy left their presence with several balloons found within their possession.
Even the dusty city squirrels did not go unnoticed. Refreshed by the attention, they chattered after the skipping figure with a wistfulness that would’ve melted even the coldest exteriminator.
As Happy continued to skip, she continued to add to the warm grasp of balloons in her hand …
and then …
she began to float …
ever so slightly.
Her hopping turned to long jumping, and her leaping turned to flying.
The sky began to break from its tradition of gray and allow some sparkling color to dazzle the world.
And by this time, as the sun began to set, Little Miss Happy waved with joy to all who looked up to see her flying, pulled by large round pops of color.
The business man turned to shade his eyes and wave.
Several squirrels vied for the best view on the center park’s gate.
A smiling baker ran out of his shop to wave with a doughnut in hand.
And the ballon from behind the garbage can? It was the brightest and roundest of them all, sparkling and glowing luminous in the setting sunlight.
For you see, when you take a walk with gratitude …
… it just might give you wings that help to turn the world into color.
“Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools,” …
Romans 1:21-22
“Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,” …
Psalm 100:4a
“Rooted and built up in him, and stablished in the faith, as ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanksgiving.”
Colossians 2:7
