The news struck me hard.

“Gymnastics is my life, you can’t just take it from me!” I wailed, interrupting my parents as they told me their plan to move to Nevada. Maybe gymnastics isn’t my life, but what is?

I could still hear my parents saying, “We’re sorry Anabelle, we really are, but we have no choice,” and my reply rang in my head just as loud, just as defiant as it had been. “Gymnastics is my life, you can’t just take it from me like this! Or can you?”

They can and they will. That’s what stinks about being a kid. Then I heard my name being called, “Anabelle you’re next!”

I stepped out on the floor for what seemed like the hundredth time, but the last I hoped. It was two days before the competition and we were practicing hard. Would this be my last competition with this team? Would I even be able to do gymnastics in Nevada?

God, where are you in this? Why is this happening to me? I’ve trusted you and you do this! These thoughts flooded my head while I was doing my routine, which I knew so well but still messed up. I knew what that meant, I had to restart. “I hope this doesn’t happen on competition day!” I exclaimed, upset as I sat down in the splits arms up, my starting position. The music started, and I tried to not let those ugly thoughts fill my head, but they did.

“Why can’t I do this?!” I exclaimed. But I knew what Coach Mandy said was true. “ You aren’t focused. Something else is on your mind. Try one more time.”

Finally, I did it, finishing without a single mistake. As I jumped up, excited, Coach Mandy smiled.

I woke up and slowly rolled out of bed not knowing if I wanted to get up. As I walked downstairs the aroma of freshly made pancakes filled my nostrils. After quickly eating breakfast, listening to my brother Easton talk about his new karate belt, I rushed upstairs to get ready.

As I prepared for the competition, I mumbled to myself, “Hairbrush, hairspray, extra leotard and shorts, change of clothes, hmm, what else?”

I knew I was forgetting something!

Then my mom called me downstairs to leave.

When we arrived, I started warming up and practicing. That’s when I realized I forgot my grips for bars. I ran over to my  bag and frantically dug through it until I found my spare pair. As I sat on that hard waiting chair, I watched my teammates doing so well and the times I messed up on Monday’s practice filled my head again. The moment my foot hit the floor I didn’t feel confident, but when I heard the bell, I rose up perfectly in time to the music. It felt good, good to just be there, just to be alive, even if this would be my last time competing. When I heard the crowd’s cheers I knew I had done well. I scored a 9.6.

The rest of the events went almost equally as well until bars. The moment I was to do my dismount, I fell. “Normally bars is my best event!” I mumbled, clearly upset.

“Normal doesn’t matter. I can tell you aren’t focused again. Just clear those thoughts from your mind until you’re done with this routine,” Coach Mandy told me from the sidelines.

I sighed, biting back the tears of failure. She was right, and I knew it, so with a deep breath, I got back on the bar and finished.

During the award ceremony I started crying with both joy and sadness as I finished first in everything but bars. Surrounded by my laughing teammates and supportive coach, it was hard to not prevent the words ‘last time’ from penetrating my thoughts.  I didn’t want to leave.

Finally home, I flopped on my bed and just cried, releasing the emotions that had held me captive for the last few days. The competition had allowed me to finally feel joy, but the impending doom didn’t let the joy stay for long. My gymnastics, my life, was going to be taken from me.

God, is this your fault? Do you care?  

But I couldn’t see an answer to my broken prayer.

To be continued : )