Know Your Anchors

Some Thoughts on Change, Work, and Lighthouses of the Soul

My commitment to this space in 2026 is to write weekly. Last month, I was mostly absent. I was in the early days of an unlooked-for transition throughout February, and while I am recovering, I’m not finished living out that process. Wisdom says it will take a bit of time, and I need to be willing to allow that time its proper place. Much of the change is good and soul-filling in deep and surprising ways, and I am being cared for by good friends and my unshakeable and steadfast husband. I can say, definitively, that there is grace aplenty. And peace. So much peace. And gratitude for the unforeseen blessings.

But how does one write about common hours in the midst of upheaval? The truth is that change and uncertainty are part of ordinary life too. Our common hours are not always mundane or repetitive. We experience loss, change, grief, trauma, all within the landscape of our ordinary, everyday living. In that landscape, even in hard seasons, there are still dishes to be done, people to be fed, clothes to be washed and dried and folded and put away, groceries to be bought, books to be read, tea to be drunk, music to be played, bills to be paid. These things are the anchors, the cornerstones, of our common hours and can be a stabilizing force in times of change. Add some fresh flowers and a candle or two, a bit of time in the fresh air and sun, and prayer, and you have the makings of lasting fortitude.

We are not the things that happen to us. But we are the things that make up our common hours, and we have the ability to shape those.

When you live in Michigan, lighthouses are simply part of the landscape, and I often think of these structures as a metaphor for the anchors of my common hours: good books, walks, lovely art, prayer, poetry, music. These small but meaningful lighthouses of the soul help me stay the course.

Corrie ten Boom, a Christian, Holocaust survivor, and author of The Hiding Place, said, “Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.” She applied this to all of life, wisely so, and I learned early on in my career that this needed to be true of my work life in order for me to maintain a healthy relationship with any job. I cannot count my job as an anchor. But I can identify as a writer, editor, and teacher independent of any one place of employment, and this is a lighthouse for me. The work that I do is what is true, good, and beautiful. I find value and meaning in the work itself, not necessarily in where or for whom that work happens, although those things can be good and fruitful as well, and often are.

Interestingly, I began reading Karen Swallow Prior’s You Have a Calling: Finding Your Vocation in the True, Good & Beautiful just before the storm hit. In that mysterious way that books have of finding their way into one’s hands in a timely fashion (I am never done being impressed by the serendipitousnous of this), it has absolutely been just what I need—so much wisdom, so much kindness, and with Karen’s particular brand of gentle clarity and honesty. It has reminded me that vocation is so much more than one’s job. If you are ever plagued by job-related upheaval, doubts, questions, or uncertainties, hie thee hence to a bookstore for a copy of this thoughtful and thought-provoking book. It reinforced Corrie’s sentiment for me—that we can hold our work in an open hand and yet be anchored by God and his callings for us. It’s a both/and.

My common hours are certainly full of God’s provision: purring cats, frost on the windowpanes at sunrise, colorful wool on my knitting needles, new and very good work to tend to. The aroma of cookies baking, the strains of a Bach cello concerto, Jonathan Brownell’s The Birthplace of Narnia.

I am sure I will have more to say on the topic of weathering change well in the coming months, but I will leave you today with a simple challenge: identify your own anchors. Because even if you are not in the midst of ground-shaking change, it is good to know what will anchor you when the next storm comes. Storms come for us all. So what are the lighthouses of your soul? Hopefully the deep soul knowledge that God loves you, is for you, and goes before you in all things is one of them. Whatever your anchors are, write them down. You may be surprised by how many there are. Also, hold them close. Make them regular. Your common hours will be better for it.