Anchor of My Soul

There have been such days this past year.

There are days where I’ve been running mad, moments where continual disasters had me venting to my husband, “This is like burning in purgative – fires!”(I refrained from using the H–E–double-hockey-stick word because children were present and once I had scandalized a college roommate with its usage. (She was shocked only because it came through my lips, and not by the actual word. I hadn’t yet built up my reputation for hidden rebellion.)

There are days where I’ve been clutched with worry, wondering – what has reason disappeared to? Why am I bringing these wonderful little people into this world? What is going to happen?

Until I remember that I in fact do not have the gift of omniscience – I am not, in actuality, a goddess – and its lack is itself a gift. With such power would come great responsibility, and I doubt I could shirk it with such flair as Aphrodite or Athena.

There are days where the multitude of tasks is barely approached, and I wilt under the baby steps I’ve taken. Every day where I’ve faltered at my work. Every hour that I’ve lost my patience. Every time I have resented another one’s choice, judgment, or need – because I’ve failed to curb my frustration, failed to make the day turn right, failed to form a manageable plan – Oops. Forgot – still not God here. Any imperfect, flawed humans in the room?

This is going to be such a year.

Yes, I know January is nearly flown without my commentary. Much of these weeks and months will likely wane similarly. The days will be joyous and miserable, and busy and beautiful. The secret of my perfect knowledge? There is nothing new under the sun.

When I fear that my country has reached an unprecedented decline or faced an insurmountable plague, I will pause and reflect upon my children’s history homework and realize, other people at other times would have seen this as a blimp in comparison to their civilization’s crumble.

When I worry that I’ve done a mediocre day’s work or not filled my child’s wants as I desire to, I will remember that the Director knew tiredness would be a factor. (Because He does have omniscience!) I will recall to my heart that “God is not unjust so as to overlook your work and the love you have demonstrated” (Hebrews 6:10)

When I experience my toddler’s giggle proving joy will overflow – when I breathe in a mountain-scape that testifies to the plan that does endure and reach its fullness, then I shall wrap my thoughts around that light, so the rest of my days will move to the music of that still point.

There will be such days. Do I smile? Do I still cower?

While listening to a meditation a couple weeks ago, I was struck by the speaker’s interpretation of Jesus walking on the sea of Galilee, seeming to pass by the apostles struggling in the boat. Why did he not walk straight to them? The answer is simple and not unkind. He knew they would be okay, that they could master the winds and come to shore – He had given them the talents and strength for the work. Yet – when they called out in fear – he turned back, just to give them the comfort of His presence.

Even if I possess all the wisdom, grace, and skill to meet this year’s challenges – if I call to Him to come to me in any moment and to hold my hand, He’ll be there.

2021 is going to be unprecedented. To my soul, at least, and probably to yours. I resolve to try to celebrate the passage of each day with the excitement of a child holding her Father’s hand on the craziest of rides.

Will you come too?

May you “be strongly encouraged to hold fast to the hope that lies before us. This we have as an anchor of the soul, sure and firm, which reaches into the interior behind the veil.”