When I served as a full-time missionary in southern Spain in 1982 and 1983 the singing group Mocedades was in the waning part of their career, but still really popular. Among their songs was one that touched me back then, and still does. It is called “Dime Señor”. It means, ‘tell me Lord’. Here are the words in Spanish and English.
Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Veo mi vida meciéndose en el mar.
Es una barca que no viene ni va.
Mis esperanzas son velas sin hinchar.
No tengo playa donde atracar.
No tengo amarras, a nadie tengo ya.
A la deriva está mi barca en el mar.
A la deriva mi vida flota ya.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto donde pueda anclar?
Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Dos flores blancas se mecen en el mar.
Son dos amores que no supe alcanzar.
Son dos entregas y a cambio soledad.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto dónde pueda anclar?
Alone in the port of truth,
I see my life swaying in the sea.
It is a boat that neither comes nor goes.
My hopes are deflated sails.
I don’t have a beach to attract me.
I don’t have ties, I have nobody now.
Adrift is my boat in the sea.
Adrift my life floats now.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
Alone in the port of truth,
Two white flowers sway in the sea.
They are two loves I learned to reach for.
They are two gifts, and in exchange is loneliness.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
You can read these sentiments in several ways. For me, I see them as reflecting the thoughts of someone who wonders about God’s will for them. They are asking where they can find truth among so many conflicting ideas. They pursued at least two former paths and neither panned out. So now they feel alone.
The concept of anchoring came home to me over the summer. My grandson Aiden, a family friend and I moved our sailboat from Solomons Island, MD to Norfolk, VA over the summer last year. We might have done it quickly, but we chose to make stops along the way. In the end we spent four days and three nights on the trip before reaching the Bay Point Marina where the boat now resides. Two of those nights we stopped too late to take up residence in a transient marina slip. Instead, we simply searched for reasonable anchorages along the way.
The first of these anchorages was not very far south of the outlet of the Patuxent River where we began the journey. The day was windy, and the winds were straight off the bow. That meant we had to tack (zig-zag) as we went. This added distance traveled, but shortened distance traveled in our desired direction. After sailing through a rather heavy squall (storm) we rounded Point No Point Lighthouse on the west shore and anchored just outside Saint Mary’s at the mouth of Saint Jerome Creek. Our boat has some specific dimensions. It is just under 30 feet long, weighs 7000 pounds, and has a mast height of 41 feet. In the case of anchorage, a more important specification is the draft, or depth of the keel. That’s 5-1/2 feet. Given the rise and fall of tides, we generally won’t anchor in water less than 10 feet deep, but if it is too deep then we can be short on anchor chain. That meant inside the bay at the creek outlet was off limits to us because it was too shallow. Outside the bay offered little protection from wind and waves, so having a strong anchorage was very important if we were to get any sleep that night. Ideal anchorage consists of a soft, muddy bottom with limited rocks or plants. Thankfully, that’s exactly what we found in this location. All night the wind blew, and the waves made things uncomfortable. Both shifted from the south to the east which meant that if our anchor lost hold, we would drift into the shallows and be grounded. Thankfully this didn’t happen.
The other anchorage was two nights later. We entered Mobjack Bay late so none of the marinas were open. We picked another good anchorage point on the north side of the bay. Just like the previous anchorage, it was windy at night, but the waves were less bothersome than in the previous anchorage. Mobjack Bay runs from northwest to southeast. It would have been a comfortable place had the winds been from any of the cardinal points. However, the winds were from the southeast meaning they blew unabated from the Chesapeake into Mobjack. Thankfully, as the night passed, so did the winds and we slept comfortably.
In both cases, we found the best sort of depth and bottom type. We also had the sort of equipment (anchor and chain) that allowed for safe nights even if they were a bit bouncy at times. In the Mocedades song, they ask if there is safe anchorage. Where do we place our anchor? The gospel of Jesus Christ is where I choose to anchor. I put my anchor, my faith, in the best place, in my personal ‘port of truth’ or perhaps better stated ‘truth seeking’. When the winds blow and the waves rise, it is Jesus Christ who holds me in place, and when needed, He can calm the wind and waves that beat on me in life. In His gospel I find clarity and truth. All other sources I find helpful but wanting.
Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Veo mi vida meciéndose en el mar.
Es una barca que no viene ni va.
Mis esperanzas son velas sin hinchar.
No tengo playa donde atracar.
No tengo amarras, a nadie tengo ya.
A la deriva está mi barca en el mar.
A la deriva mi vida flota ya.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto donde pueda anclar?
Sola en el puerto de la verdad,
Dos flores blancas se mecen en el mar.
Son dos amores que no supe alcanzar.
Son dos entregas y a cambio soledad.
Dime Señor ¿a quién tengo que esperar?
¿Con qué viento, con qué rumbo debo navegar?
Dime Señor, pescador del más allá,
¿Habrá un puerto dónde pueda anclar?
Alone in the port of truth,
I see my life swaying in the sea.
It is a boat that neither comes nor goes.
My hopes are deflated sails.
I don’t have a beach to attract me.
I don’t have ties, I have nobody now.
Adrift is my boat in the sea.
Adrift my life floats now.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
Alone in the port of truth,
Two white flowers sway in the sea.
They are two loves I learned to reach for.
They are two gifts, and in exchange is loneliness.
Tell me Lord, who do I have to hope for?
With which wind, with which course should I steer?
Tell me Lord, fisherman of the great beyond,
Will there be a port where I can anchor?
You can read these sentiments in several ways. For me, I see them as reflecting the thoughts of someone who wonders about God’s will for them. They are asking where they can find truth among so many conflicting ideas. They pursued at least two former paths and neither panned out. So now they feel alone.
The concept of anchoring came home to me over the summer. My grandson Aiden, a family friend and I moved our sailboat from Solomons Island, MD to Norfolk, VA over the summer last year. We might have done it quickly, but we chose to make stops along the way. In the end we spent four days and three nights on the trip before reaching the Bay Point Marina where the boat now resides. Two of those nights we stopped too late to take up residence in a transient marina slip. Instead, we simply searched for reasonable anchorages along the way.
The first of these anchorages was not very far south of the outlet of the Patuxent River where we began the journey. The day was windy, and the winds were straight off the bow. That meant we had to tack (zig-zag) as we went. This added distance traveled, but shortened distance traveled in our desired direction. After sailing through a rather heavy squall (storm) we rounded Point No Point Lighthouse on the west shore and anchored just outside Saint Mary’s at the mouth of Saint Jerome Creek. Our boat has some specific dimensions. It is just under 30 feet long, weighs 7000 pounds, and has a mast height of 41 feet. In the case of anchorage, a more important specification is the draft, or depth of the keel. That’s 5-1/2 feet. Given the rise and fall of tides, we generally won’t anchor in water less than 10 feet deep, but if it is too deep then we can be short on anchor chain. That meant inside the bay at the creek outlet was off limits to us because it was too shallow. Outside the bay offered little protection from wind and waves, so having a strong anchorage was very important if we were to get any sleep that night. Ideal anchorage consists of a soft, muddy bottom with limited rocks or plants. Thankfully, that’s exactly what we found in this location. All night the wind blew, and the waves made things uncomfortable. Both shifted from the south to the east which meant that if our anchor lost hold, we would drift into the shallows and be grounded. Thankfully this didn’t happen.
The other anchorage was two nights later. We entered Mobjack Bay late so none of the marinas were open. We picked another good anchorage point on the north side of the bay. Just like the previous anchorage, it was windy at night, but the waves were less bothersome than in the previous anchorage. Mobjack Bay runs from northwest to southeast. It would have been a comfortable place had the winds been from any of the cardinal points. However, the winds were from the southeast meaning they blew unabated from the Chesapeake into Mobjack. Thankfully, as the night passed, so did the winds and we slept comfortably.
In both cases, we found the best sort of depth and bottom type. We also had the sort of equipment (anchor and chain) that allowed for safe nights even if they were a bit bouncy at times. In the Mocedades song, they ask if there is safe anchorage. Where do we place our anchor? The gospel of Jesus Christ is where I choose to anchor. I put my anchor, my faith, in the best place, in my personal ‘port of truth’ or perhaps better stated ‘truth seeking’. When the winds blow and the waves rise, it is Jesus Christ who holds me in place, and when needed, He can calm the wind and waves that beat on me in life. In His gospel I find clarity and truth. All other sources I find helpful but wanting.
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