It’s 2015 and I am 14 and in the eighth grade, and that’s a struggle on its own, with the zits and the fitting in and all of that junk. But if you think that’s tough, add in the fact that I’m the only person in the school who has to worry about getting a lunch tray to the table without it spilling everywhere, or wet floors that could cause my crutches to slip out from under me, or apologizing when someone lands on their face because they’ve tripped over my crutches sticking out from under my desk in class.

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But I’m not as different as people might think I am. I still go through the whole teenager phase. I still worry about pimples and my hair and if I make good grades. See, I’m just the same as you are, as everyone else. We’re all the same; we just get to the same place by different roads. I have fears and doubts and worries, and I like to laugh and be loved … just like you. I’m a regular person, just a different kind of regular.

A friend asked me if I wonder what it would be like to have two legs. Sometimes I do, like when I put on my shoe and think about how much longer it would take to put a whole other shoe on. Even with one shoe, I’m still late for school every morning. Same is true for shaving my leg — how do you two-legged people do it? I would like to be able to scratch my nose and walk at the same time, though. It’s little things.

I swim for my high school swim team. I still haven’t won a race, but I did accomplish something almost equivalent to winning: I finished the 500-meter event. Now, for those of you who don’t know how many laps that is (like my mom), it’s 20. Twenty laps!

I got ready for the race all week — and by “got ready,” I mean I swam and tried my hardest not to talk myself out of it because that’s a lot of laps, people.

Nevertheless, I found myself on the block, waiting on the buzzer. There I went, plunging myself into the water. I wasn’t expecting to win; I really just wanted to finish. I paced myself so I would have enough energy to complete the race, and I thought I was doing okay. Then my arms started to get tired and I felt myself slowing down. But as I turned to breathe, I saw my coach, Jim Raymond, and my teammate Andy Cockerell yelling in the chaos of people for me to “Go!” So I kept going, and as soon as I flip-turned, there were Coach Raymond and Andy walking beside me on the side of the pool again, staying within eye-shot so I wouldn’t stop.

And, sure enough, I didn’t. I kept at it, and then I realized I was on my last lap. By that time, I was going full-speed because I knew I was going to make it! I ended up in second place, barely in front of the girl in the lane on my right, but I couldn’t even celebrate because I was so tired.

That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I accomplished it with practice and a whole lot of encouragement. Most of all, it took strength. I’m not trying to say I’ve got a whole bunch of it, but I know where my strength comes from. It comes from God. He’s the One you go to when you’re barely hanging in there or even when your life feels perfect. God’s the One you can go to when your dad leaves or when your mom loses her job or when friends turn their back on you or life just punches you in the face. (Those things haven’t happened to me, but I know people who it has happened to, and I hope they’re reading this.)

Life’s hard sometimes; it is for everybody. We all have our bad days, and bad things happen to all of us. But when you feel weak, God’s got your back; all you have to do is ask for strength. Psalm 18:32 says, “It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.” If you just ask God to give you a little boost, He’ll be there for you. Sometimes you might have to wait a little while, but He’s got a reason for what He does. You might not see the reason, but it’s there. Just wait and see.

— Adapted from a chapter of the book, “Grace in the Middle,” by Wendy Duke.