When the Bar is Low

 

Life does not have to be perfect, to find some gratitude. 

With my hands reaching high, my eyes closed to my surroundings, my heart wide open-tears streaming down my face-I sang. 

A voice untamed and shaky lyrics pressed deep into my wounds. My posture upright but my soul humble in awe.

The words were caressing my soul:

"Anita, how did we make it out, the bar was so low..." 

My big brother calls me, and we hold these deep, intimate conversations about healing and grace, the grace only the Lord can give. We laugh.

We cry. 

But we always give God the glory.  

The grace that redeemed orphaned siblings. The grace that protected the little dirty "ragamuffins" that no one wanted.

Nobody wanted my brother and me. 

But God. 

The Lord never let us go. He had a plan and a purpose for us. 

He is the "Father to the fatherless". Psalm 68:5

Some days I long for my parents. 

I grieve memories that never existed. 

Beautiful people with a terrible addiction. 

Oh, the pain of addiction, of abandonment. 

The pain of being traded in for a case of beer, a bottle of pills, the pain of being discarded for love, for getting high, or getting numb. 

OH, But the BEAUTY. 

The Lord had a plan and a purpose for it all.

The Lord called me by name.

He held me in His arms, protecting me. 

He was forgiving me for so many ugly things I did from that wounded heart. 

The days that death washed over me, the depths of darkness, He pulled me out and strengthened me through those blackened nights. 

Because there is JOY IN THE MORNING. 

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5

I just had to make it one more day. 

Sometimes, I see those scars on my arms and I feel my stomach turn inside out. 

He had a plan for me. 

The Lord is Father to the fatherless. 

He counseled me. 

He forgave me.

He equipped me.

He LOVED me when I couldn't love myself. 

He taught me to not GIVE UP even when everyone gave up on me. 

RUNDOWN:

My running is a biproduct of my survival story. To survive I had to learn to persevere. I had to learn to not give up or give in. 

I had to learn this thing called GRACE. 

I had to learn how to climb the mountain.

 BUT when I reached the top....I had to learn something harder-to look BACK over the path I climbed.  

The path climbed in humility, and without bitterness. 

The climb, the terrain, the wilderness, the savage predators, the wounds along the way were conquered. 

NOT because I was strong. 

Because the Lord never left me and never forsook me. 

"Though my father and mother forsook me, the Lord will receive me." Psalms 27:10

 Even when I FELT alone, abandoned and rejected.

The Lord prepared me all those painful years ago. 

Here I am. 

I am 5 weeks out from a 100K.

 12 weeks from Western States 100.

An EPIC Dream, I thought for sure was never going to happen just 9 weeks ago.

 

"Work like it depends on you but pray like it depends on the LORD."

But don't you dare give up. 

No matter how low the bar was set, no matter how impossible dreams look- life looks, don't GIVE UP. 

I got in 10 miles in Metamora this morning. Sarah and I hit the backroads in horse-country, hill terrain. She dragged me up those hills, and I chased her heels a lot faster than I expected to. I think the training is actually working! And the healing! 

Speaking of chasing, that's what my brother and I do, a lot different than we did when we were kids. Today we chase each other with encouragement and the Word. We chase each other towards healing, grace, and the life God somehow carved out for us in a world that didn't expect much from us. 

The bar may have been set low.

But GOD was quietly building endurance. 

IN Peace, 

Not Pieces,

ANITA~

Me, Bobby, Gina. 
When we were in foster homes, my sister was the youngest, she was so adorable and smaller. A couple fell in love with her and wanted to adopt her. 
That's another story.