Hope anchors the soul.

Hope anchors the soul.  That was the theme of the one day retreat for moms who have experienced the death of a child.  One hundred and twenty moms gathered together to be encouraged by those farther ahead of them on this journey called grief, and one hundred and twenty moms were drawn together with their tears and understanding, and sometimes, even their laughter.  We were pampered and we were loved by the moms and by women who were simply caring volunteers, and we were gifted over and over again.  One of our gifts was a corded black bracelet with a small silver anchor attached.  I put it on to wear, but sometime in the hours after the retreat, I realized it was no longer on my wrist.  I was saddened because of its significance and felt an emptiness even in a simple, singular loss.  Arriving back home though, my emptiness was dispelled when the gift was found amidst the mix of clothing and “stuff” being unpacked.  

It reminded me of how lost I have sometimes felt.  Unconnected.  Wandering.  Searching for purpose and meaning.  On the outside of the circle looking in; isolation deadening my spirit.  Wondering if I could ever find a meaningful place in the maze of our broken world; wondering if I could even ever be accepted in that world.  Hope anchors the soul.  Someone showed me that hope and she made it very real, and she invited me inside the circle, and God began to transform me from the inside out.  Slowly, almost systematically because that is the needed bent of my temperament, God awakened my spirit, brought acceptance, and shaped purpose and meaning from the brokenness.  Hope anchors the soul.  I learned the necessity of anchoring and I nurtured the only hope that truly anchors – one that is found in relationship with the God of Hope.

Crisis, tragedy, major life changes, loss of people relationships, deep disappointments – these and still more, can challenge the anchor.  Suddenly, or slowly, the anchor is dislodged, and instead of being securely imbedded, it drifts as circumstances, emotions, and irrational thinking take their toll and drag the anchor along a rough and sandy bottom, once again, feeling lost, life darkened because the hope that anchors seems unfounded, and the heart that longs for hope, cries out in desperation.  We acknowledged at our retreat that it does happen – that one time commitments, for a myriad of reasons, can get bumped and bruised, squeezed and strained, even with the best of intentions, even with a heart that longs to please God – the anchor of hope can become a cloudy, disconnected memory, and lostness once again consumes me.  And at our retreat, we confronted that reality too.

Even “cloudy, disconnected memories” are still memories, and we need to intentionally rehearse them.  The God of Hope has lifted me before from my lostness, and my God of Hope hasn’t changed.  He longs to do it again.  And He wants me to know that the “over and over and over” puts me at His feet, and in my willingness to vulnerably share my own heart with Him, He exposes His heart for me.  My total and raw dependence brings the resources of His promises – over and over and over.  
Hope anchors the soul.  In the death of my child.  In the waves of grief that follow.  In the threatening ebb and flow of life’s circumstances,  Hope anchors the soul.  It is found in the over and over and over of staying close to the God of Hope.

                                                                                                                          – Bev

(Related Bible reading: Hebrews 6:16-20)