He’s hurting again, Lord, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s been such a long ordeal. How much can he endure?

She moved out . . . she’s gone . . . what did I say? What did I do? God, I tried so hard to be the mother she needed me to be.

How long is this going to go on? I don’t think I can endure the loneliness another single day.

Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He will sustain you.
Psalm 55:22

Casting all your anxiety upon Him,
because He cares for you.
I Peter 5:7

What do you do with your burdens? People and circumstances that seem to drain every ounce of your strength, things you would like to give to the Lord but just can’t seem to let go of?

God showed me how to give my burdens to Him . . . a simple little exercise, but oh so wonderful to experience. I’d like to share it with you.

You’ll need about 30 minutes alone. Gather a few things together from home: an envelope, a piece of paper, a pen, a watch (preferably with a second hand), and a felt-tipped pen. Go buy a helium-filled balloon. Then immediately go somewhere where there are no obstacles, no trees or buildings—maybe a deserted football stadium or a park or a lake.

Take all your paraphernalia with you to the edge of the water or the center of the field. Write about your burden on the balloon with your felt-tipped pen, anything that will help you associate that balloon with your problem. Find a rock about the size of a half-brick, and hold it and the string to your balloon in your hand, lifting it with a straight arm at a 45-degree angle. Heavy, isn’t it?

Begin talking to the Lord about your burden—all your thoughts, your fears, the pain, the destroyed dreams. As you are praying, your arm is going to get awfully tired. Keep right on praying. Tell Him everything. Any of the thoughts that you have had—vomit it all out—if there is bitterness, anger, depression—all of it.

By now you’re crying, and you can’t separate the emotional pain from the physical pain you’re experiencing because your arm is hurting so badly. Then, when you cannot hold your arm up another single second, say something like this: "Lord, You have commanded me to give my burdens to You. I can’t handle this. It’s too much for me. I can’t hold onto it any longer. You must take it." Drop the rock, release the string, and watch that burden float up into the heavens—into the open, waiting arms of God.

Thank Him for telling you to give Him your burden—and for taking it. Look at your watch and record the time and date on your piece of paper. Write this: On (date/time), I gave my burden to the Lord. And He took it. (Print that last line.)

Look up into the sky and find that tiny speck. It’s His—it is no longer yours. It’s not in your hand. He told you to give it to Him, and you did. Now fold your paper and put it in your envelope (where is the balloon? catch one last glimpse of it). Seal it, and on the outside write "GOD" and then the date.

When you get home, get an index card and cut it into strips. On each strip write just the date. Put a strip over the sink, one in your bathroom medicine cabinet by your toothbrush, one on the dash of your car—anyplace where you can glance at it—and thank Him for taking your burden. (Close your eyes and visualize that speck in the sky again.)

Please know that I love you. I understand. Oh, not completely, but I long to help. I pray that this simple exercise will give you peace. Remember, your emotions are not the barometer of peace. KNOWING that He has taken your burden and will handle it with wisdom and loving tenderness is the key to peace. (Remember how that balloon went straight to Him when you released it?) Think on these things.

Just as my child brings his broken toys
with tears
for me to mend,
I took my broken dreams to God
because He was my Friend.
But then . . . instead of leaving Him
in peace
to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
with ways that were my own.
At last I snatched them back
and cried,
"How could You be so slow?"
"What could I do, My child?" He said.
"You never did let go."

Faith Mitchner