For weeks now, my inspiration for new posts lags behind my desire to write new posts. Other writing holds more of my attention. For the second week in a row, I offer you a slightly reworked blast from the past. The post below, originally written in September of 2017 with the same title of Anchors Aweigh, still hits close to my heart.

As a child, nothing rivaled my grandparents’ house when it came to my favorite place on earth. My Big Daddy called me Annie Sue and slipped me dollar bills for helping out Big Mama. Big Mama always made me black-eyed peas and mashed potatoes when I visited. My mind holds piles of sweet memories of that place. And, as much as I intellectually knew they would not live forever, their loss broke my heart. Big Daddy died in 2004. My grandmother went 5 ½ years ago, just a year before I originally wrote this post. 

I visited their graves in September of 2017 and found myself completely undone. As I stood staring at their headstones, I felt untethered. It left me feeling like a ship broken loose of my moorings – emotionally drifting.

Losing my grandparents doesn’t negate my history. It doesn’t change the role they played in my life. It does, however, change my options in the physical realm. For years their house sat empty and falling in on itself in a crime-filled neighborhood. Our family learned the hard way the importance of having a will and all the paperwork in order.

44^th and Royal Rd. no longer serves as my safe retreat. In a strange way, I felt orphaned.  Concrete roots remain my preference. I want a home base.  The notion of a home place passed down for generations makes my heart sing.  My family doesn’t have that. I failed to prepare for that reality.  

I heard a quote years ago that stuck with me. “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” J. A. Shedd  

It occurred to me that real, trustable security cannot be found on this side of heaven. I can spend my efforts chasing things with a finite end, but counting on these things can never provide eternal security. Close connections serve a purpose in life. Being attached to and grateful for earthly provisions has a place too. The wiser plan, though, includes placing my trust in the Giver of all good things. My security must be found in Him rather than the finite.

The one true God created me. He created me for a purpose. That purpose, though played out on earth, has eternal significance. Therein lies my security. Death cannot take it. Crime cannot take it. I’m held securely and lovingly supported by my Creator. God himself captains my ship.

According to Wikipedia – To weigh anchor means to bring it aboard a vessel in preparation for departure. The phrase “anchors aweigh” reports the anchors have cleared the sea bottom and the ship can officially be underway. I believe the untethered feeling at my grandparents’ graves served as a holy “weigh anchor” for my life.

Being emotionally tethered to a time and place can hold me back. I see this time in life as an opportunity. I will love my grandparents forever and hold those memories dear, but I will take them with me on my ship. Leaving the harbor doesn’t mean forgetting or leaving behind. So I say “anchors aweigh”… my ship can sail free.