Yesterday a new book arrived in the mail: Wonder by Meredith Ann Miller. It’s less of a children’s Bible and more of a guide for parents—an invitation to explore Scripture with our kids instead of simply reading it to them.

Because I pre-ordered the book, it came with a few bonus resources. One of them was a prayer pack with creative ideas for praying together as a family.

Right before the boys got home from school, I blew up a bunch of balloons and tucked little prayer prompts inside each one. Then I hid them around the house—one perched on top of a lamp, a couple tucked into the stair rail, one sitting on top of the fridge. Just random places.

When the boys got off the bus, they walked in the door and immediately spotted the balloons.

I didn’t even have to explain the activity.

My youngest grabbed one and started playing keepy-uppy with it in the living room. My oldest started scanning the house for more. The presence of the balloons alone seemed to invite them into the fun.

Eventually we started popping them.

Each balloon had a simple prayer prompt inside:

Thank God for a friend.
Thank God for a teacher.
Thank God for your favorite food.
Thank God for an animal.
Thank God for the weirdest thing you can think of.

Nothing complicated. Just small, ordinary things.

One of my favorite moments was watching my youngest try to pop a balloon by jumping on it. He would leap into the air, but every time his feet landed they instinctively separated and landed on either side of the balloon. Over and over again. His feet simply could not figure out how to land on it.

My oldest, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with stomping them at all. The popping was loud, and he did not like it. Eventually he grabbed a pair of scissors so he could pop them from a safe distance.

Honestly, I found myself relating to my oldest the most. Every time a balloon popped we all covered our ears. It was that strange tension of wanting to do the thing… but also knowing it was going to be loud and a little startling.

What surprised me most was how engaged he was. I assumed he might think the whole thing was a little lame. But instead he started running the activity.

“You pop it,” he told his brother. “Then I’ll read it.”

Balloon after balloon popped as we thanked God for animals and teachers and favorite foods and silly things we could barely think of.

The house was loud.

Balloons popping.

Boys laughing.

Feet running through the house searching for the next one.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise, we were praying.

Sometimes I think we imagine prayer has to be quiet and serious to count. Heads bowed. Voices hushed.

But the kingdom of God isn’t always quiet.

Sometimes it sounds like balloons popping in the living room after school.

And it is full of joy.