I find myself longing for familiar these days more than ever!
Been walking through a lot of the unfamiliar lately and I feel my heart calling me back to what seems unchanged.
I’ve always thought I was okay with living life in spontaneity and yet I’ve never longed for consistency more than I am right now.
In the past 8 years we’ve moved, changed jobs, had 3 sons graduate high school, 2 graduate college, another who will be graduating next month with his beautiful wife…3 sons get married and move away to 3 different states, both of my parents die and as I write this I am preparing not only for my son and his wife’s college graduation but our youngest son will be graduating high school and leaving for college in the fall two states away….an empty nester about to be happening over here.
To say my life isn’t screaming for familiarity, I’d be lying!
My heart seems to be lingering in the ordinary much more than I’d like to admit. It’s been calling me back to the simpler days of balancing laundry and naps, tending to scraped knees and breaking up arguments. Oh back then truth be told I felt it was all a little too chaotic but these days to go back to fixing snacks and feeding hungry stomachs seems like it would take away my hungering pangs that are keeping me up at night. It’s funny when we’re in the midst of the mundane and the ordinary, we long for the days that seem a little more uncommon and extraordinary.
And yet I am reminded that in the middle of all the unsettledness it’s possible to drop an anchor down right here and find some steadiness in the storm.
I’ve been studying about anchors lately and finding my heart leaning into their purpose more and more.
Did you know some of the earliest anchors were rocks?
And these rocks were said to be so effective they’re often still used today along with an anchor when it needs extra stability and it needs permancy …to stay firmly planted.
In fact in the midst of a storm they’re so effective they say….
‘they’re nearly impossible to move’.
I want God to be my rock…my anchor
when this life seems to be changing all too fast and loss seems
to be the forces of my storm.
No matter the wind that is hurling against it if it’s firmly anchored the boat will stay put protecting it from damage. The boat may move ever so gently in the wind but it will stay put.
So it is in our lives too, we may feel the perils of the storms but oh may we anchor our souls in the strength of the Lord.
As I am writing this I have a reminder wrapped around my neck. My sister had it made for each one of us recently when my Dad died. He was a sailor for 21 years in the Navy and he always seemed to be our family’s ‘anchor’ -the one we felt secure in. And yet when he died my sister knew we needed a daily reminder that
‘God is the anchor of our souls‘
so that’s what she had etched on a chain for us.
I find myself grabbing it when life seems a little unsteady and I feel a little alone. It’s there in those moments I realize my ‘home’ has shifted a bit… and my anchor lies in the Lord.
The details of our live’s events don’t choose what is ordinary and what is not. It’s a choice to live in the present rather than wishing the days away!
Every morning is a day waiting for me to join into what it holds for me. Every day I am given another day to make an imprint on history and yet sometimes I live too many of my days lingering in the past. Somehow I just need to trust fall into this season and trust that God has gone before and behind me and goes with me too. A lot of days I’d rather just stay inside the comfort of what is familiar and attend to my wounds. But inside the confines of my security I can hear God calling me into a new rhythm for my days.
When I was having these 4 boys of ours, no one ever thought to tell me of the changes that were going to hit all at once, like the crushing of a violent storm. They told me plenty of times about how my hands were full taking care of four boys, you’d think just one of them would have warned me of the days of transition ahead, that were beyond the horizon. I suppose their warnings would have been in vain overshadowed by my physical exhaustion and tossed aside as unmerited advice….after all we usually only live inside our present days.
Today as I was day-dreaming of boys hanging out of trees and gathering frogs in their boots, I was thinking how easy it is to memorize the days of old rather than living in today. That’s why I took out his small leather notebook this morning. It was one I had given my Dad when my Mom passed away. It was for him to begin again and to count his blessings. Today as I reached into his dresser drawer I pulled it out as it was time for me to begin again and do some counting of my own.
I opened the half used notebook as an invitation from Dad to finish his words and count some of my own simple thanks….every one written as an arrival upon the pleasures God had given me….the sun as it warmed my face, the flowers that are scattered across my yard delicately decorating my path, even the breath I had just taken that filled my lungs…each blessing was a gift. I wrote down each one pumping hope into my veins.
After all we could all use some hope wrapped around our brokenness.
I’ve been finding the way out of my brokenness is reciting blessings.
Dad always told me when things were pressing down real hard to count my blessings and life would seem a little bit easier.
Perhaps in the process of being grateful God is somehow binding up all of my broken pieces like a rock anchored at the bottom of the sea…anchoring my heart and keeping it steady in these storms.
When I spend my days looking to the beauty that surrounds me rather than the noise that’s wreaking havoc on my soul I find myself exhaling more than I am deep breathing…counting my blessings instead of keeping track of my losses.
‘Sometimes just breathing speaks our desire to walk again.’
That’s what I said to her and she shook her head with tears streaming down her cheek. Loss was bigger than words can explain in her one life….she buried a child who’d taken his life and now she was losing one thing after another in her own life….her marriage, her job, a friend, a relative…burying them all inside her brokenness. Made my eyes shift off my losses and see deep within her heart….tears welled as I struggled to give hope. This woman had hope, more hope than I could have passed out that day and yet she was leaning into me for a little more….
Maybe our brokenness gets redeemed when we see a purpose it can serve!
My mind shifted to the boats that line the coast back home and I realize….
Anchors allow Sailors to count their blessings rather than their losses too!
Choosing to anchor my heart in Christ alone won’t prevent the storms from coming but it keeps me counting beauty rather than becoming a critic in the midst of all our craziness. And when I count good rather than hard my life gets resurrected to what God has set before me rather than feeling like I’ve died.
After all this change, the one that needs to change is me and the only hope of becoming a new me is anchoring my soul in Christ. So the one thing I can do amidst the change and chaos is to pay attention to the beautiful things He’s surrounded me with.
Then maybe then I’ll hear His voice in my day a little louder as I walk with Him and in Him one step at a time…
then, pretty soon His steps will be mine and I’ll look a little more like Him.