Anchored

A childhood spent on boats and water reminds me of the seriousness I always felt when we let down the anchor to secure ourselves for the night.

I always felt safer in a calm river or tied up securely to a buoy where I was sure of our position, of being connected to an unmoving mooring. Safeguarded, protected, comforted.

But I remember once we were forced to anchor in open water off the coast. Strong winds, fast moving tide, rolling waves. My Dad asked me to watch the chain to make sure it was straight, without kinks, or tangles as the anchor was lowered. The responsibility felt heavy, wide eyed and checking, listening for instructions, the cranking sound of the chain rattling downwards into the depths.

I didn’t sleep soundly that night. The wind was howling around, the waves swelled and lurched, tipping us in our bunks, and I was aware of my Dad checking the anchor regularly to make certain it was secure and not dragging.

The sounds, the vibrations, all signals to monitor and verify if we were drifting.

In these days of unexpected rolls, and surges; information, concerns, fears, questions and reports, I find myself checking my anchor…..

Am I drifting?

Where is my security?

I cannot avoid the unyielding waves.

The tide has not turned, and the wind pushes the waters around me in sweeps; rolling out the things that used to make sense, tipping over the misplaced priorities, and capsizing the time consuming realities, until I am accepting this new tilting, spilling, swaying movement as part of my place in the world right now.

The boat is moving, and rocking, and responding to the waters on which it floats.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed.

Seasick.

I hear the forecast and I know the storm has more strength and disturbance coming.

But I am checking my anchor.

Where is it held….?

Not in the facts, or the science (although I search and read, learning and examining both.)

Not in my emotions and thoughts (which are changeable, forceful and sometimes overtaking.)

Not in my own abilities (my resourcefulness, forethought or resilience.)

Not even in my faith (which is a verb requiring action and not a belief system noun!)

Somehow in the midst of chaos and uncertainty I am still anchored to HOPE;

That light displaces darkness, regardless of its gigantic, tsunami size.

Love casts out fear….if I will allow my heart’s capacity to widen in its generosity and measure.

Weaknesses can also reveal our greatest strengths….if we will let the discomfort of the process to reshape the design.

It is not a Disney inflated expectation that everyone all lives happily ever after.

Raw experience exposes that fantasy as a lie.

It is not a crutch to hold up the limping injury.

It is not a deception to medicate my vulnerability.

Neither is it a delusion to dilute the painful bite of the striking reality blows unfolding.

It is the reason I am still here.

The proof of my existence beyond all previous challenges I have weathered; death, ICU's, cancer, miscarriage, loss, disappointment, pain, separation, grief, longing, unanswered prayers, maltreatment, oppression, murder, fear, loneliness…….

The rationale for my involvement in life itself.

My purpose for still standing….even with fear…...

A mandate to fight….(albeit on my knees in tears…..in locked down home quarantine!)

I have to hold on…..

Letting go is not an option…..!

I must be part of the generation that rises and levels up my response.

HOPE keeps me from drifting…..it holds me from sliding away in the currents.

‘We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.’ Hebrews 6:19

HOPE holds me when everything else is falling apart.

HOPE reminds me of my responsibility.

Decades later I am still watching the anchor.

“Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”

Lamentations 3: 21-26