I have this picture in my head of this giant hot air balloon. (My brother and sister-in-law just got back from their dreamy trip to Morocco where they rode in hot air balloons, which is likely why I’ve had balloons on the brain.)

In this picture, the balloon is upright and lit, and my three kids and husband fill the giant wicker basket ready to take flight, but I am standing outside the balloon holding tightly to the rope.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got us!” My voice shakes as I fight to keep this giant vehicle grounded. I’m utterly exhausted holding this position for what feels like an eternity with no reprieve in sight. I am fighting this cacophony of feelings—protectiveness, frustration, weariness. Why isn’t anyone helping me? I’m at the end of my rope. I can feel the knots build in my shoulders as I watch this picture play out. I’m carrying too much. The burden is too heavy. My prayers for help continue to go unanswered.

But there is someone else in the picture. He’s not standing next to me, but he is with my family inside the basket, patiently waiting to guide the balloon into the air.

“It’s okay.” He gently reassures me. “You can let go. We’re meant to be in the air.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” I cry back.

“Yes. But you can trust me.”

The grandiose symbolism of this image is not lost on me. I’m being crushed under the pressures of motherhood. I feel instinctively responsible for keeping my family safe, healthy, happy, and it’s too heavy a weight for me to carry. I’m frustrated that I have been tasked with this seemingly impossible challenge. I was so certain God was shirking his responsibility of helping me hold onto this rope. But now I know, his job was never to help me hold on, but to help me let go.

There’s nothing for us on the ground when we were made to be in the air. I’m missing out on these moments, the breathtaking views, the perspective that can only be gleaned from up high.

My burden is light.  I remember the words Jesus offers his weary disciples. Then why do I feel steamrolled against the weight of the world? I often lie awake at night swatting away intrusive thoughts as quickly as they enter. Are my kids eating enough vegetables to stay healthy? What is the risk of SIDS at 6 months? Will my kids be bullied for being awkward or different? Will they know Jesus on a personal level? Each worry another stone on my back, grounding me slowly to dust.

I can’t know the answer to these fears I wear like a straightjacket. And the carrying of these burdens does nothing to offer resolve. I can dig my heels in and grit my teeth or I can listen to the man in the basket and exchange my worldly anxieties for a heavenly view.

After all, we are meant to be in the air.