My sister is a combination of pageant beauty, philosopher like depth, and warrior-princess fierceness. It is this combination that could have sent her a number of different directions in life. She was a savvy business woman that could easily have been a CEO or owner of her own company. She has intellectual and spiritual depth that might have lent itself to writing or teaching. She is intense and intensely causal as she might have focused on a movement or injustice. Sometimes we erringly look at what could have been and what might have been. My sister is all and none of these things. She’s a wife and mother; and even in the writing of it she is far more than the story could ever be told.
Nobody can see or know the power of her resolve, the immortal strength of character that holds her world together or the tireless selflessness that absorbs pain while emptying herself in service. What is overlooked and missed in the shadow cast by the limelight of others, what is untold, unheard or drowned out by the cheers and adulations so deliciously served up for those she loves is the essential essence of her being.
Often times people refer to an anchor as a ‘weight’ that is in the way, a nuisance or possibly a necessary evil. It doesn’t have speed boat beauty or battle ship power nor does it warrant special marketing notoriety or regard; and yet it is the anchor that holds in the storm, that establishes a fixed point, or that stabilizes amidst the chaos. The anchor is never out front, never the selling point, never the focus; but always the key to depth, stability, “home” and safety, separating order from chaos and simply ‘holding’.
My sister is a ‘boat anchor’ not in the “oh, that old boat anchor” way that is carelessly thrown around; rather she is essential and without her those on the vessel would be adrift and careening toward destruction, swirling in a vortex of chaos.
The anchor holds.