The morning was crisp and clear. The valley shimmered and snow frosted the mountaintops. On this perfect November day we (my husband and I with our two school aged children) convened in a large vacant parking lot for the adventure I’d been eagerly awaiting – a hot air balloon ride over the city of Provo, Utah.

This would be a new perspective, a bird’s-eye view. How could this not be a spiritual experience, this literally “transcendent” opportunity to witness the beauty of the world from such a glorious vantage point? I was so ready for this! Perfectly primed!

Under the expert care of our balloon pilot we were soon aboard the basket, properly instructed and cautioned. The colorful skins of the balloon swelled majestically. With whooshing noises from the equipment and the creaking of the ropes in the basket, we started our ascent above the ordinary. First we were ten, then twenty feet above the ground. It was grand.

The children cheered as we continued aloft. “I can see the lake!” “I can see the roof of Grandpa’s house!” “Look at how tiny the cars are getting!” they called in delight and glee.

This wonder and awe was what I’d expected and hoped for. I was thrilled that my children and husband were taking it all in with such wide-eyed enthusiasm.

I, however, was suddenly having a much different experience.

Much to my surprise and dismay, at around 20.5 feet above the safe sanctuary of the parking lot tarmac, I was overcome with a paralyzing dread, a distinctly creepy fear and powerful vertigo. To my astonishment I suddenly was incapable of hunting for the lake, Grandpa’s roof, the tiny cars. One glance over the side of the basket and I thought I might inexplicably launch over the edge to my doom.

For the remaining half hour my basket companions “oohed” and “ahhed”. I kept my eyes down focusing on the details of my bootlaces and the intricacies of the bottom of the basket. Before the others knew it (which was for me an excruciatingly long ordeal) the balloon descended to a different empty parking lot, landing safely and gently on terra firma.

All of us disembarked with enthusiasm. There were smiles all around, hearty “thank you!”s and handshakes with our pilot, hails and farewells.

“This was a picture-perfect trip!” I think I heard someone say.

I didn’t fall to the ground and kiss Mother Earth, but the impulse was there.

You may have heard of or read C.S. Lewis’s book Surprised by Joy. This experience for me might be called Surprised by Fear.

So what did I/do I make out of this unexpected reaction?

First of all, the gremlins of my mind enjoyed trotting out scriptural verses designed to shame me. 1 John 4:18, for example, is a doozy: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”

Now that I have had some years to consider this, I realize that, yup, it’s true. I wasn’t then and I am not yet “made perfect in love”. I take broken parts that make up me to God and allow Jesus to do his atoning work. We’re a work-in-progress.

I also believe I have a brain that is designed to recognize threats to my life. I don’t understand how all the pistons fire in there, but I’m persuaded that my amygdala and my prefrontal neo-cortex are trying to do their jobs. An occasional side effect is fear.  Apparently for me, hot air balloon rides trigger something in me.

Did you know that in North America (where I live) the greatest phobia is the fear of public speaking? (The second greatest fear is death.)  I don’t know how that ranks in a Mormon population, given that we get public speaking training from the time we’re 3.  (On the other hand, think about the average Sacrament meeting. Being unafraid of public speaking is not the same as being good at it.) I enjoy public speaking. Maybe I should try that in a hot air balloon and see how I fare.

There are other life experiences, of course, that we expect to go one way and are surprised when they don’t. As a first time mother I was surprised to find it so hard. (Is that something I can confess among LDS folks?) The temple often surprises people. Marriage – its reality; its absence; its complexities – often surprises people. Pet ownership? Ask Sandra about that one! The benefits of a BA? or a PhD?

What kinds of experiences have surprised you? How do you process the unexpected?