I lost my anchor yesterday.
One minute I had cleated off the line as I have a hundred times before.
The next minute I’m noticing we’re drifting far from where we’ve anchored.
I step lively to the bow and…
The anchor, chain and 200-feet of line are completely missing.
Such is sailing with four kids on board: they get all your attention and your ship doesn’t.
Being the adventurous pair that we are, my father and I decided to take his boat, Contessa, in search of the missing anchor this morning. We set anchor in the approximate locale of my missing Danforth, and then went to work, zig-zagging over the know area and diving on anything that remotely resembled a white line. We even used his underwater camera. (That’s me in the view-finder above).
While I found an old vase, there was no sign of my missing anchor.
After over an hour and a half of diving in the shallow 15-feet of water, I was about to give up, seriously thinking we were never going to find it. I went a little wider on my last pass, and crossed back toward Contessa, just north of a route I’d run twice earlier.
There was a clear white line, stretching north-to-south about 10-feet below me. My dad and I hooted and hollered, celebrating in Dutch-Seafaring, pirate fashion.
Had I known how much fun I was going to have with my dad, I would’ve had a better attitude about losing my anchor the day before. (Granted, the very fact that I have a boat places my in the top 1% wealthiest people on the planet. Perspective is everything). But sometimes we encounter frustrating circumstances simply so that providence has the room to move.
Jesus’ disciples asked him in John 9 why a certain man was ill, wondering if the sickness was due to the sin of the man’s parents.
“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”
The Lord never wishes anything to get lost. But he sure has a lot of fun finding us.