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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: CLOWN (02/13/20)
We shuffled through shallow puddles along the walkway between the outdoor bleachers and the parking lot. Spent, both in dollars and endurance, the crowd of parents, grandparents, and all their little ones funneled back to the real world. Even in the rain, the circus had been magical. The people ahead of us bottle-necked and my husband swung our daughter up to his shoulders to see.

“There’s clowns making balloon animals! Daddy, can I have one?”

He opened his wallet in reply. One dollar left. Just enough.

Minutes later, we stood in front of two clowns slumped on folding chairs, a wet cardboard box of balloons between them. Our daughter asked for a horse. Wordless, one clown began stretching and twisting a blue balloon.

Over and under, around and around, she watched the magic taking place in his hands, oblivious to the stench thick enough to wall off the refreshing spring rain.

As the balloon took shape, my insides deflated when I noticed the clown’s stained sixty-year-old fingers. Grimy clothes patched to make a costume were more likely patched in repair. And the only smile on his face was painted on. Caked and crumbling, the red bled into white, a grim replica of a joy long gone.

He handed the balloon horse to our daughter and continued the assembly-line pace with his paint-faced partner, ensuring no one looked too long, or too deep.





As far back as we can trace, my husband and I are first-generation Christians. We came to Christ later in life and during those first few years as believers I carried a heavy weight for all the lost time.

I would look at my children and fear that I couldn’t change enough, learn enough, fast enough. I worried that seasoned believers could see right through what I wanted them to see: my own painted-on mask. And I resented the young families in our church who seemed to have bypassed many of the hardships my husband and I had brought on ourselves from living with our backs to God for so long.

How could God possibly use half a life?

But what I learned in time is that our God is a God of the second act: an act of grace. He meets us right where we’re at, “acting on our behalf.”1

He replaces assembly-line relationships with transparency and trust. He helps us look past the masks of others.

And every time we turn our faces to him, he wipes away more of the old paint so the “image of his Son”2 can shine through. His own red bleeds into white. Clean and clear, with an everlasting smile.



1 Isaiah 64:4 ESV (author's paraphrase)
2 Romans 8:29 ESV

This is a work of non-fiction.
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This article has been read 323 times
Member Comments
Member
Date
Barbara Culler 
02/21/20
I liked the opening story. But your second half did not segue very well to your point. Perhaps you could say something about the tired worn out old clown continues through life, and often I do the same. Does that make sense? Good job on the story, and keep up the good work writing.
C D Swanson 
02/21/20
You set up the first story very well great description and visualization of the old tired clown.

Good job with the topic.

Thanks for sharing "your" story and scripture verses.

Blessings~
C D Swanson 
02/27/20
Congrats!
Blessings~
Arlene Baker
02/27/20
I LOVED the opening hook! However, I do agree that a transition was necessary between the literal clowns and your personal experience. It was a great read!