Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. 

1st John 4:7-8

Helium Balloons are delayed tear machines. They start with joy and excitement. But sooner or later they will bring tears to the eyes of the child who holds its string. It floats away or pops and the thing that brought all the joy and calmed the tantrum creates inconsolable children. Helium balloons are delayed sadness.

But I still got my kids the balloons. Not every time, of course, but they still got to play with those balloons.

Why? Because the joy was worth it.

Our family said goodbye to our dog, Elliott, on Saturday. Our big yellow lab was one month shy of his 13th birthday. He was a fixture in our home and in our hearts. Memories of him jumping off the dock and into the lake still bring a smile to my face. I remember my Charlie, who was terrified of dogs when we first brought him into the family, shutting himself in Elliot’s crate just a couple short years later. Watching my dog loving Emery take him for walks and not being sure who was “walking” who. Elliott is every bit a part of our family. And watching my kids say goodbye to him is a memory that I won’t soon forget.

Have you lost a pet? These fur balls wrap their paws around your heart so quickly and tightly don’t they. Their joy. Their unhindered love and devotion.

Yesterday was my first Sunday morning without Elliott. It was tough. Sunday mornings I’m the first one up and I’m out of the house before anyone else gets up. Sunday mornings were Elliot and me time. I didn’t have to share him with anyone else and he didn’t have to share me either. Often for only a short minute or two, but those were special minutes with my dog.

So, Sunday morning, I was sad. Elliott was way more than a helium balloon. But you see the parallel, right? Our choices and decisions can often come with pain and hardship. I certainly wasn’t thinking ahead to the end when Elliott was a puppy and we brought him home. But, the logical part of my brain knew that Saturday was going to be part of my story with my dog. Delayed sadness.

Here’s my point. Opening yourself to love almost always means you will be opening yourself to pain. Pouring your life into someone has a cost. Loving others is a “no money down” contract. It doesn’t cost you much up front. But loving others has reciprocated interest. The more you love and the longer you invest in someone else, the greater the pain when they are no longer there to greet you for your Sunday morning cup of coffee.

This isn’t news to you. You know this, you see this in your friend who has gone through heartache. You’ve tasted this through loss yourself. Maybe it was your Elliott. Or your someone was an even deeper loss. A spouse. A parent. A child.

Love, as beautiful and world changing as it is, comes with a cost. Love has a price.

And just like those delayed sadness machines filled with helium—I urge you to love anyway. Sign on the dotted line of the “no money down”contract.

Love, even with the cost of the pain, is absolutely worth it. Every. Single. Time.

Love. Invest. Risk it. You’ll taste pain. But you’ll taste so much more as well.

This is Jesus’ story for you, isn’t it? He loved, and later he suffered because of that love. Do you think it was worth it for him? Do you think you are worth it?

I think it is important to remember that Jesus still has the scars in his hands, feet and side. And I like to think that He looks at them occasionally, then looks upon you. Reflecting back on that day those scars were nailed into him, I imagine He looks at those scars, smiles at you and says under his breath—“yup, loving you was worth the pain…”

Love ya Elliott. You were worth the pain too!

Reflect upon some pain you’ve endured because you risked loving someone. Ponder the cost, but dwell in all the stories, the joy, and the laughter.