That man was scared. He had won the cruise in a company raffle. His wife couldn’t go, because she was needed at her work, and couldn’t find a replacement. She told him to go alone, even though he refused. It had been a long time since he’d had a vacation. “Go and have fun! You deserve it!” She said. Finally after much consideration, he decided, what the heck. You only live once. And it was only a three day, two night cruise along the Mexican Riviera.
But now he was wishing he could go back in time. Now he was wishing that his wife had not been so understanding. Now he’d wished somebody else won the stupid raffle.
The storm was horrible. Pitching back and forth. The lines holding the life rafts had snapped. Half of the people waiting to board the life rafts had washed overboard already. He was sure he’d be next.
The boat lurched, he was pitched forward, tumbling out of control. He reached out for something to hold on to, something to grab. Too wet. Too slippery. He knew he was going to die. Finally his hand rested on something cold, metal. He grabbed it with all his might. His hands slipped down the end of the chain, and found the anchor at the end, which had been thrown from its holding place on the deck of the ship.
He gripped the anger with all his might, wrapping both arms around, both legs. “Please God, I don’t want to die.”
He held fast to the anchor. He saw more and more people being thrown overboard. “Please God, not me,” he prayed. After several minutes he thought he may actually have a chance. Another five, another ten, he was sure he would live. As long as he held fast to his anchor. As long as he didn’t let go. He began to cradle the anchor, began to think of it as a friend, a savior. “Thanks, buddy,” he whispered to it.
The boat lurched. The anchor flew, so did the man. They both hit the water, he didn’t let go of the anchor. It was still his only hope. The chain loosed and the anchor started to slowly sink.Â Surely the anchor wouldn’t let him down, would it? The anchor sank deeper and deeper, the poor man still clinging to it, not knowing what to do. It helped him before right? It wouldn’t be right to just let go, would it?
The anchor finally came to rest on the bottom. The man’s arms now lifelessly held fast to the anchor. The man, unable to let go, was dead.
What are you holding on to?