If you've ever been to Letchworth State Park, you know that it is referred to as the Grand Canyon of the East (as are several other gorges, etc. on this side of the country). The history surrounding it is filled with stories of Indians, the famous story of Mary Jemison, the Council of the Six Nations, etc. As we walk and view the gorgeous scenery of the park, it is easy to picture the Native Americans living there 200 years ago.
If you are from this area, you also know the gorge is deep…very, very deep. The cliffs go straight down. The barrier walls are so low they are basically pointless. Sometimes the pointless walls are nonexistent. You have heard the many stories of people who have died there. Every. Single. Year. These are the stories that make my mother-heart panic every time I get within 10 feet of the gorge. I used to go to Letchworth all the time as a kid. I never panicked. Once, just my husband and I went. No panic attacks. I go with my kids….and I flip out. Seriously. I have never experienced such uncontrollable fear as I do when I am at Letchworth. I have learned to just walk away when I get like that….holding onto the hand of my youngest child, of course.
However, Sunday was different. Well, once the balloons took off. When my focus was on the balloons above, down the stream, and even below me…I wasn't concerned with the danger of the gorge. Gone were my motherly concerns and my child-like spirit of wonder returned for a few minutes. I oohed and ahhed with my kids and snapped many pictures. I was in awe of these massive, floating works of art.
There is no way I could capture the wonder of it all, but I loved capturing the brilliant colors.
|filling the balloon|
|a pile of colors|
|about ready to launch|
|"we have lift-off"|
|I love New York|
|loved seeing the TOP of this balloon as it floated below us|
|deep in the gorge|
While I absolutely loved watching these, I doubt anyone could ever get me in a hot-air balloon. If I lose control on solid ground at the edge of a cliff, can you imagine what I would be like in a tiny basket hundreds of feet in the air with nothing but a little flame to keep me afloat?!
Makes me grateful that it is "On Christ the solid rock I stand…" My God is a rock, though my faith may sway like the basket. Trusting in Him always in all things.
May you have a blessed weekend trusting Him.