The old hymn says, “We have an anchor…

anchored to the Rock which shall not move…”

Well, yes, surity is comforting and needed,

until it’s not.

Until we dream of slipping our mouring,

setting out to sea

to see how we fare out there

in the rolling billows.

No more to rest on comfortable pillows

confined to the safe docks of the yacht club

with all the other skippers

who never put out to sea.

Brunch on the stern,

tethered to the dock,

protected, floating on the flat surface of calm waters.

But,

what if you want to put to sea?

To ride the waves?

Feel the cold surf spray?

You need to get away,

but the old Club

has no exit,

only a wide, inviting port-of-call,

where once you’re in,

your in.

“Free from sorrow,

free from sin”.

Ya, gotta

Cut the ropes!

Slip from your slip!

Steer out the in-gate!

Sail the sea,

sometimes frightened,

mostly free.

Still connected to the Harbor-Master,

only now you sail.

You have the charts he gave you.

You have the Mate you need

and a sturdy craft.

You have the motion of the ocean,

the winds will behind you.

And above you,

the stars.