A friend made an unexpected comment about me, “If you weren’t in my life, I’d be unsteady.”

The word unsteady caught at my heart. This year I’ve been praying the word Anchor over myself. I think of the heavy metal objects attached to a boat by a rope or chain. When dropped into the water and resting on the bottom of the sea, the anchor keeps the boat from moving, keeps the boat steady.

When I think of an anchor, I think how heavy it is, so intensely heavy. But an anchor is not meant to be a burden on the boat. It’s purpose is for rest, to allow the boat to remain still for a time.

I want to bear heavy things and not necessarily feel weighed down. I want pain to have purpose, I want burdens to produce strength. I don’t want to move anxiously aboard, gripping for balance. I want to be steady, to find peace.

I want to be okay with being still for a time.

I’ve walked along the waterfront and stared out at the ships, finding myself reaching for my journal to write, “Understand you are very capable of setting sail, but you are called to stay anchored for a time.”

I need to hold on to that idea, that there is purpose to this season of my life.

In a page of my art journal is a painting of a boat tied to the dock. It’s accompanied by the words, “It’s okay to feel a little tied down, every boat’s venture begins at the shore.”

As much as I want to catch the wind in my sails, I need to remind myself that it’s okay to be where I am.

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There’s another definition for an anchor, someone or something that gives support when needed.

I’m glad to be an anchor for others, help those I love feel steady. I’m glad to have anchors in my life as well to help lighten life, people that let me be where I am.

My friend told me if I weren’t in her life, she’d be unsteady. She should know it’s the same for me too.