I feel most like myself here.
The thought came to me from seemingly out of nowhere. The words raced through my mind, but I am unsure of what they actually meant.
I’ve had that thought before over the years, but I’ve never examined it fully. This time I slow down, I hold it up to the light, looking at the different facets, the pieces of my heart and soul that feel missing when I am not here.
What does it mean to feel most like myself?
If I am not wholly me in other places, who am I?
I’ve always believed that wherever you go, there you are. I thought you would take all of you when you leave a place. I never knew that a part of you might get stuck or decide not to come or be tied so tightly to a community that you don’t bring all of yourself to the new place.
If I had known, could I have prepared?
If I had known, could I have figured it out?
Could I have somehow packed more of me?
And if I left pieces of me behind, what part have I been living with for these last months? The portion of me that feels deeply known, valued, seen, and respected are the parts that have been left behind.
The remainder feels untethered, floating, waiting to be seen and to be known and to have a history and most of all to feel at home. I’ve been here, in this new place physically, but perhaps not completely.
What does it take to make a life whole? What does it take to make a soul whole? How can I mostly feel like myself no matter where I go?
The words come to me suddenly as though they have been waiting for me to ask the question,
“We have this hope as an anchor to the soul”.
Hebrews 6:19
And what is an anchor, but something that grounds an object? Something that is used to moor a vessel to the sea bottom.
And so, when I feel unmoored, I can anchor myself to the One hope that is unchanging, never-ending, never giving up, and always available.
Even if I don’t feel like myself, Jesus is always Himself. And He always gives of Himself no matter where we are physically or emotionally. He is the anchor of our soul.
Although our lives and our addresses and our circumstances may change, He will never change. He provides the stability we desperately need. We can anchor ourselves to Him. We can attach our souls to Him, the only one who knows us better than we know ourselves. He created us after all.
Today, may we choose to lift our eyes from our circumstances. May we choose to trust Jesus as the hope and anchor of our lives. And may we experience the grounding and mooring that only He can provide.
Katie Evans 