The Bobber Story

The Bobber Story

Life can feel a lot like a bobber floating on the surface of a quiet lake. You drift along with the breeze, steady but always aware of that thin line tethering you back to shore—your family, your foundation, the place you know you belong. That line is comforting. It tells you you’re not alone, not lost, not without anchor.

But a bobber doesn’t float by itself. Beneath the water, a hook dangles, baited with something small and tempting. And somewhere in the shadows, a fish is watching. One sudden bite, one sharp pull, and the peace of the surface is gone. The bobber plunges under, yanked this way and that, the water thrashing and swirling. It feels overwhelming, even frightening—like you might never rise again.

And then, sometimes, the unthinkable happens: the line snaps. The connection you thought was unbreakable—your safety, your comfort, the thing that always kept you steady—is gone. You’re adrift.

That moment feels like the worst thing that could ever happen. But here’s the truth: even when the line breaks, you are still buoyant. You will still rise. You might come back to the surface scratched, scarred, maybe a little faded from the fight, but you’ll still be there. And in time, drifting free, you may wash up along a new shore. Some kid walking by might spot you, scoop you up, and give you a brand-new line. Maybe it won’t be the same tackle box you came from—but it will be a home that needs you all the same.

Life will always have its pulls, its storms, its fish waiting under the surface. And yes, sometimes the line breaks. But whether you’re held fast or floating free, you are never without purpose. You are always meant to rise. You are always meant to find your way home—even if “home” looks different than you expected.

—Chris Johnson