Paradise Falls

Paradise Falls

How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.

James 4:14

With our two little boys we recently watched, once again, the Pixar animated movie Up, which follows the last adventure of a seventy-eight-year-old balloon salesman and widower named Carl Fredricksen.^a

Carl’s wife, Ellie, was more than the love of his life; she was the spark and spirit, as well. Their marriage is shown as a short vignette without dialogue—just a series of brief scenes perfectly complemented by a musical score—that nevertheless speaks volumes about the thrilling ups and terrible downs we all face in a lifetime of marriage.

The vignette begins with glimpses of Carl and Ellie’s wedding day and their first home and first jobs—Carl as a balloon salesman at a zoo and Ellie as a zookeeper. The couple race up a grassy hill together, then look up at the sky and imagine pictures forming in the clouds. Suddenly the clouds are all shaped like babies, and Carl and Ellie are painting a nursery together. It’s an idyllic look at young love and marriage.

But life isn’t always idyllic. The scene shifts to Carl and Ellie in a hospital room with prenatal diagrams on the walls. Ellie is weeping into her hands. Next, Carl comforts his wife by reminding her of an old dream they shared when they were children—traveling to a place called Paradise Falls. Rejuvenated, Ellie creates a dream jar labeled “Paradise Falls,” and into the jar goes all of the young couple’s spare money.

Life steps in again; their car pops a tire, Carl is hospitalized, a tree falls and damages the roof of their home. For each inconvenience, the dream jar is depleted. Soon, Carl and Ellie have gray in their hair, and in a flash they are elderly.

Near the end of the vignette, Carl finally decides to fulfill their dream, and he purchases two tickets to Paradise Falls. But Ellie collapses on her way back up the grassy hill from their youth, where Carl plans to present the tickets. We see her in a hospital bed, with Carl holding her hand and kissing her forehead. Then we see Carl sitting alone at the front of a church. He holds a solitary balloon in his hand. The vignette closes as Carl carries the balloon into his house, which has turned cold and gray. The balloon is a lone spot of color against the gloom, and then everything fades to black.

Our lives are fun, deep, tragic, and tender. But they are also brief—here for a little while, then gone. What can you do today to be mindful of the blessings you share together in this present moment?

Every instant of time is a pinprick of eternity. All things are petty, easily changed, vanishing away.

—Marcus Aurelius

^a 50