“OK, so, invisibility might be too much for us to deal with, but there's also the reality that since people never look up, what we just might need is some helium balloons.”
Nine-year-old George Ludlow was talking with nine-year-old Milton Trent about how to get space to work on projects their adults couldn't understand yet.
“A floating lab … yeah … way better than a treehouse!” Milton said.
“I was thinking about this,” George said, “because Papa was talking to some military guys about a problem, and he said to them, 'The chain of command exists for a reason: it's time to get vertical. Stop talking about this to people at your own rank who can't help you-- all you are doing is spreading confusion. Go talk to your CO.”
“Yes … cut down on confusion by getting vertical … yes!” Milton said. “That's gotta be the answer!”
They, of course, had not yet looked up and seen that Sgt. Vincent Trent had quietly followed them back across the yard … but he had to go into tactical retreat because the hopeful misunderstanding on his younger son's face from the misapplied wisdom from George's grandfather, Capt. R.E. Ludlow, was too much for the sergeant, who had go into his bedroom and put his head in a pillow for laughing so hard.
This alerted Mrs. Melissa Trent to go see what was going on, and, again, George and Milton never looked up...
“So, the tricky part really is measuring how much cardboard we are going to need for our work platform,” George said.
“And, weather,” Milton said, “because getting wet does not work for cardboard. I suppose wood would be too heavy.”
“It would take a lot more balloons, so, cardboard is really the thing,” George said. “Hold on; I'm just going to see if Grayson will sketch something for us.”
George brought back his little brother, six-year-old Grayson. The Ludlow master builder in the bud was not impressed.
“I'm only drawing this one more time for y'all,” he said, and sat down and got busy. “You really are right when you say people don't look up!”
“So, I'm thinking we don't really need the pretty shiny balloons, because that's kind of a waste – we need industrial strength party balloons,” George said.
“Yeah, because we may need to practice on using those with the helium tanks,” Milton said. “We also should consider doing some voice effects while we have all that helium, too!”
“Yeah, you're right – gotta remember that for sure – we'll just order a spare tank,” George said. “After all, ordering one more after ordering one hundred is no big deal – they probably can put that in the same package.”
“But my question is,” Milton said, “how do we get all that here without the truck and the packages taking off?”
“Oh, we'll just have all that delivered by blimp,” George said. “Grayson, how soon can you throw together a blimp landing pad for us with Legos?”
The look of little blond boy disgust on Grayson's face as he looked up caused Mrs. Trent to have to take a tactical retreat, thereby leaving Milton's grandmother, Mrs. Gladys Jubilee Trent, to come see what was going on.
“Wait a minute,” Grayson said upon seeing her. “I gotta put more white curls up here.”
“Oh, well, yeah, take your time drawing all that, because it's a lot more than we thought – I think we could really land the blimp and our platform down on the same place.”
“Yeah, there is a place for that,” Grayson said as he finished. “Peter Pan lives there.”
That caused Mrs. Jubilee Trent to be wearing a huge smile as George and Milton looked down at Grayson's drawing of her hanging out of the doorway right above them.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGH!”
And off they went again, running to the safety of the home of George's cousins the Lees, leaving Grayson alone on the porch with Mrs. Jubilee Trent, watching.
“Sent them right off to Never-Never-Land,” she said to him, and then bent down and picked him up as he put up his arms.
“Do you ever feel like you are trying to find your way to where you are really supposed to be while the world is full of people that don't get it?” Grayson said.
“Yep,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “This world is not our home; we are passing through on our way to Heaven, where the Lord is building us a perfect city, and left us a blueprint to look at.”
“Really?” Grayson said.
“Sure; I'll show you,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “It's in Revelation 21 and 22.”
So, they sat down and looked, and then Grayson kissed Grandma Jubilee's cheek.
“Thank you,” he said. “I feel so much better about my life now. It's really hard living in this county. My great-grandfather built a ton of stuff but folks forgot how to do things right, and, it's hard to always be hearing about that. But, if we're going where stuff is going to be built right, we just have to do the right thing until we get there.”
“And that's the point of looking at the blueprint,” Mrs. Jubilee Trent said. “Maybe we should take some crayons and see if we can make a modern blueprint of all this so you can have it.”
“I would love that,” Grayson said. “I really would!”
Three hours later, Mrs. Thalia Ludlow came to collect her serenely sleeping grandson, all curled up on a pillow in the middle of his and Mrs. Jubilee Trent's drawings of the New Jerusalem. Those drawings would go up in his room, ever after, with his own later comment added: “We mess up and Jesus keeps building – so, so will I, and not give up.”