Anchors
SEA OF CORTEZ, BAJA CA SUR ~ HOME IS WHERE THE ♥️ IS
I read an article some years back that said that whatever friends you make by 20-something would be the only friends you’d make from then on. Interesting… By default and by this rule, that means that whatever friends you lose after 20-something detracts from the set number of friends you’re apparently allowed in your lifetime.
Scary! Especially considering that most of the s**t that torpedoes longtime relationships typically happens after thirty. LOL!
I have been traveling and living abroad for the past 2 ½ years – no closer than 900 miles to the closest places that still hold pieces of my heart in the form of the people I love – and that has forced me, out of necessity, to confront this so-called truth.
“...I’d specifically asked God for new friends and new relationships that would fit the seasons of my life...”
In truth, I have, at times, found myself grasping at the few old friends that have survived some of the biggest shakeups of my life – somewhat unreasonably demanding of them the support to see a new vision for my life without the benefit of seeing many of the variables and environments that are shaping that life – while casually esteeming the new ones for which I cannot yet see a purpose beyond the moment.
Not terribly unreasonable…
Trouble is that, before I set out on my #2017WorldTour I’d specifically asked God for new friends and new relationships that would fit the seasons of my life into which I was heading.
I’d never been much of a networker. Not a conscious one, at least. There are some people who are really good at it and there are still others who aren’t but do it anyway because they understand an age-old worldly wisdom: YOU ARE ONLY AS STRONG AS YOUR RELATIONSHIPS.
Usually, I found myself somewhere in the middle.
I was shy but didn’t show it and no one believed me when I told them I was because, the more people I found myself around, the more outgoing and gregarious I became. Pure instinct. On the inside, I was scrambling trying to escape the situation. Victories over that residual shyness were the only reason any post-follow-up calls were aaaagonizingly made – no matter how great the meet was. The interactions invariably violated my caterpillar-like sense of safety and I didn’t want much to do with that.
The ‘get-out-of-a-stressful-moment’ card I’d granted myself had become my go-to over the years and it was ok that it had. I was secure. I had family and good friends who’d been around for foreva-eva. I was surrounded by colleagues, and church folks, and strangely-familiar strangers that all made enough noise to convincingly mimic the mating call of real friendship. I was at capacity and had no room or need to add to the pile. Besides, my reason reasoned, I’m not going to really see/talk to/need that person again so…
But when it’s butterfly season – and it has been for some time – things have to change.
Sometimes, as life unfolds and events try our capacities, I’d daresay many of us find ourselves with far fewer true relationships than we’d previously thought we had. I did. And if you’re reading this and haven’t had that happen, I pray that you’ll never have to learn the tang of that particular bitter/sweet-ness. Forreal. But when you do, what do you do next?
For a lot of us…nothing. We just make do with what we’ve got and limp towards the finish line (hopefully!) with at least one good friendship left intact.
But for the rest of us…
Earlier today, I was worshipping and meditating (you know…the usual…WTH am I doing with my life?!) and thinking of where I might want to live next. Please know this is a new kind of conversation for me. Prior to this, I lived a very local life – everything within a 30-mile max radius with the exception of a few trips to Mexico, Europe and the Caribbean every now and then. But it’s been dawning on me afresh recently that I can live anywhere even as my mind hastily brushes that thought aside and fastens to the safe idea of having a ‘home base’.
Home base.
As I pondered that phrase, I had to acknowledge a pivotal truth I had learned early on in my travels: the place that holds the stuff you’ve bought and for which you pay rent, a mortgage (or neither) does not intrinsically mean ‘home’. Home can be a lot of different things for as many people as there are on the planet, but as most would agree, what it’s NOT is a glorified storage unit – fancy or not.
It’s been difficult for me to try on the idea of moving on because the seemingly ‘safe ideas’ of being planted and, therefore, having flourishing relationships have once again locked arms. But as I meditated on potential losses I’d likely endure if I left, I heard in my spirit ‘You don’t need to keep a place here in order to keep the relationships. These are anchors.’
Anchors…
People are anchors…
Relationships are anchors…
Sounds strange I know, but contrary to their name, anchors are mobile; as mobile as the ships that carry them. They move. They don’t stay in one place. They go wherever the ship goes.
A nomadic life and a local life seem very different in every way but there are at least two similarities:
- whether we roam or stay close, all of us are ships at sea navigating the waves of life
- the very nature of creating new relationships isn’t always easy no matter where you are
A pre-30-local lifestyle doesn’t guarantee you’ll keep your close relationships just like a post-30-mobile one doesn’t guarantee you’ll make none (and vice versa). People come and people go and most of them don’t stick.
But a few do.
These are the anchors. These are the ones worthy of investment. These are the people that will be ‘HOME’ wherever and whenever your waves take you. It requires courage…for everyone. Not just you and not just ‘them’. You will need vision. You will have to open up and try new things with new people and probably have to ramp up your trust a bit. LOL! But it’s all worth it…
Because you can never have too many friends ♥️