God tells me many great and wonderful things. Sometimes He will tell me that I am “like” something. He’ll point to another aspect of His creation like an animal or a beautiful natural event and then He’ll point to me and say “ you’re like that.” Sometimes they don’t make sense at first. He recently told me I was a woodpecker and I was honestly disappointed. He was telling my sisters they were such grand, beautiful things. I saw a woodpecker as annoying, thanks to good old Woody the Woodpecker. But after a bit of research on this species of bird, it was actually some high praise from my Father. It was actually a message about the strength He gives me and the survivor He made me to be.
But the other night He told me what my husband and I are like. And I didn’t have to do an internet search to understand it. It immediately resonated with me as the most digestible truth. It had a pleasant aroma and was delicious to taste. . .
We were on our first overnight date as a couple since before my daughter was born. All of these firsts have been hard. But I anticipated this one joyfully – – just as I have every chance to get away with my husband. I had the perfect dress, a few days of some pretty good tanning lotion, and special private night time attire. We would dance and God would bring us back to the breezes that blew in the beginning. We would love and breathe some sighs of relief at some quiet time together. It was to be about joy, romance, love, and reconnection. It was to be about LIFE and not about death.
And we were doing good. Really great in fact. Until all of a sudden, I felt a sinking feeling in and around me. But it wasn’t exactly all of a sudden. It had begun with the Father Daughter dance at the wedding. I turned to the side and the sinking I had sensed was my husband’s heart. His eyes welled up with love that was so close to rolling down his cheek. I quickly pulled his hand up to mine and squeezed hard. My hand was on top of his hand and my spirit was pulling him up into the air and the light. His hand was on the bottom and He held me firm in the place I needed to be to remain strong.
Without a strong anchor, the buoy floats about and drifts in the sea. The buoy won’t serve as a boundary for safety or a landmark of any kind without a strong anchor to hold her firm. And what good is a strong anchor if it doesn’t tightly connected to the HOPE of a buoy floating above it. The line between the two of them must stay strong. They must hold the ground they are meant to mark. He grounds me and I am the Hope that floats to mark our place in Gods keeping. He is as silent as the unseen anchor. I am as attention drawing as a big ol’ bright buoy floating in a sea of only water. He must be resilient to hold our territory. I must be a clear picture of the HOPE we are hooked to.
I would be lost without my anchor. Lost at Sea. He would be lost without the purpose that a buoyant wife provides. What would he do? Would it matter? What would I have to show or tell? Would It matter? And though we be separate, individual unique people – – as different as a buoy is from an anchor. . . we are but one. One heart. One mind. One soul. One hand. And together we serve one purpose and one aim. We have very different needs to be our best. I need more aesthetic attention both physically and spiritually to be good at being a buoy. And He must be constructed of the finest material with great integrity and longevity to be a good anchor. But together, we stand our ground. We are not moved. We help others find their bearings. We mark the territory of the redeemed. . . the place where victory lives. One flesh. One mind. One spirit. We have both had to be restricted in different ways to achieve the oneness that God designs. We have lost nothing. We are a bright shining buoy in deep scary waters anchored by the kind of courage that will not be moved.
We’re like that . . . He says.
And I agree.