Late at night, the online reservations were finalized for my son, granddaughter, and I to take a hot air balloon flight from Pagosa Springs, Colorado. Both kids sounded excited at the prospect. I couldn't wait either.
They fell asleep and had faith that since I'd promised a balloon ride the night before, that meant that I would wake them early enough to arrive on time. Payment for the ride and the shirts was not an issue for them either.
But early the next morning, out on the lawn with the sight of the flames, flimsy material, and the small basket, I noted some looks of concern on Madee's face. She was sizing up the situation. It certainly appeared a bit more challenging than when we had admired the pictures last night on the website.
The air was crisp, the sky was clear blue except for wisps of smoke filtering in from forest fires fifty or so miles away.
Slowly, over a half an hour later, the inflated craft lifted the gondola with it's wide-eyed passengers high above the tree tops and off on our adventure.
Both kids hopped into the wicker basket with ease, locating their spot next the rim.
Me, well, my hopping involved a little pulling of my arms by my son, Philip, but I soon stood in the middle of the basket, close to my kids, where I had a good view over their heads.
As a true blue member of the Mom's Club, I started thinking of all that might go wrong, and what would I do to protect these two precious kids in the event of a malfunction.
This Mom's Club point of view often gets in the way of me totally enjoying events. This time was no different.
It interested me to note the landmarks as our pilot pointed out several formations used to steer by. Silently, we floated overhead with just the blast of the burners with spurts and snorts akin to a dragon spouting fire every once in a while to retain our altitude.
Silence, other than the soft utterances of the awed passengers seemed to sanctify this flight.
The pilot pointed out our final destination not too far off of the highway on some vacant lots. We watched in amazement at the accuracy of his landing.
It all seemed over too soon, even though the set up and tear down alone, took forty five minutes.
I think back now on how much freer Madee and Philip were on that ride than me. They had no one else to be concerned for.
My take away is that no matter how much I might have planned or worried, there was nothing I could personally do to insure our safety up there. I only distracted myself from thoroughly taking in the magic of the moment.
Kids are to be imitated. Their faith in the experience of the pilot, the engineering of the companies that made all of the equipment was just there. They believed that I would only take them somewhere safe and enjoyable. They asked questions, got answers, and relished the moment.
Faith the size of a tiny grain of mustard seed is all I need to move mountains, Jesus said. So if I abandon obstacles like fear and its cousins, doubt and worry, then imagine the difference. This life of freedom is exactly what a child in its innocence experiences everyday. And this same offer is sitting on the table before each of us, when we receive God's gift of forgiveness.
Freedom to walk with Him always at our side. The Creator of the universe, who set all laws of physics into motion, is the one who paid the price to give this to me. So, I am picking up this gift of faith and innocence from the table and taking God seriously. I intend to enjoy my ride through life like I never have before.