Dropping Anchor

My maternal grandfather, Jim Waddle, was a quiet man, at least that's the way I remember him. He passed away when I was in second grade, but I do have memories of spending time with him and my Granny Waddle when we would travel to their home in Kentucky to visit. Granddad didn't say much, but when he did, it was usually something worth hearing. One thing that Granddad truly loved was fishing ... he had an old silver fishing boat that he would take out on the lake as often as he could, throw his cinder block anchor over the side and fish the day away.

I didn't get to fish often with my Granddad, but I remember one particular fishing expedition as if it were yesterday. We caught several fish but it's not the fish that make me remember that outing ... it was the words my Granddad spoke that seared that day into my mind. When I whined that we needed to go fish in the shade rather than the hot sun in the middle of the lake, Granddad said, "We're anchored in this spot, and this spot is where we will stay. We belong right here."

Over the last week, my family (who drove 12 hours to get here) and friends (from near and far) worked tirelessly to help prepare for Meghann and Barrett's wedding. They offered money; took me to purchase the food and then helped to prepare it; provided decorations; purchased flowers and made bouquets; set up, managed and cleaned up after the reception; wiped away my tears, gave me lots of hugs and made sure to keep me eating and on my feet. People helped without being asked, and quite honestly, I don't know what I would have done without them ... I could have never pulled it together on my own.

I've been completely physically and emotionally exhausted for the last few days, evidenced in part I'm sure by the fact that I sobbed all the way down the aisle as I walked Meghann to the front of the church to meet Barrett. As I've rested for the past two days, I've been beyond grateful for a friend who chose to stay with me for an extra couple of days before driving back to western Kansas ... a friend who recognized how difficult the last week has been and how hard it was for me to say goodbye to my family. I've been totally overcome as I thought about everything everyone has done and said ... and I am totally overwhelmed with the selfless love that has been poured out and the prayers that have been lifted on behalf of me and my family.

As my friend and I went for a walk early this morning, I kept thinking of my Granddad's words on the lake that day so many years ago. And I thought about the anchors in my life ... my Lord ... my family ... my friends. Faith and people who beckon me to drop anchor, to find my spot and stay, to recognize where I belong. And I'm thankful that those anchors hold firm, that they never waver or wander, that they remain secure even when the water all around me is choppy and the waves threaten to capsize my boat. So very thankful indeed.