Before you were fast.

When Kora was a brand new middle schooler at a new school, she came home with another story. After a number of comments about her grades, a classmate drew a picture on the board and drew Kora with a “small brain.”

Trying to manage my own reactions and let her borrow my calm, I said, “Hmm. OK. That’s so hard. Maybe ask her if she wants to race?”

Years later, on the summer eves of her Senior year, we are reflecting.

She said, “It’s just the thing that everyone always told me as long as I can remember. “You’re so fast!” Strangers in gyms would come up to me over and over and say, “We can’t wait to see what you do in the future.” It was a blow to lose my Junior year. And now. It’s just weird that this is where we are now.”

Ever fighting the vulnerability of dependence, she was so proud that this was the way that she was going to help her family. This was the way that she was going to pay for her own education.

It was the thing. It was the way.

Until it wasn’t.

I would be lying if I didn’t say I have been wrestling with God for the past week. Really?!? This is what we are doing here?!?

I just kissed her forehead and sent her back to the OR again.

Frustrated but ever aware that I have such a limited view of their ultimate good.

And if we are here. If we are here.

I hope we can take this opportunity to solidify some things in her heart and mind.

Before you were fast. And when you were fast. And after your legs were knocked out from underneath you.

More than so fast.

You. Are. So. Loved.

Deeply. Profoundly. Always.

Rest in it.

Just rest in it, baby.