Today, I went to work a 5K.

I came home with an answer to a prayer.

And I don’t think the people who answered it have any idea what they did.

If you’ve followed my work for very long, you’ve probably heard me talk about the power of one. One person can change a life. One conversation can create understanding. One act of kindness can travel farther than we will ever know.

Today, I learned something about the power of one prayer.

For quite some time, I have had something on my prayer list that I haven’t talked much about.

I have a community called The Courageous Survivors Community. I knew why I created it. I knew I wanted a place for survivors of childhood abuse, domestic violence, trauma, brain injury, and other difficult life experiences to connect.

But if I’m being completely transparent, I couldn’t quite see it.

I couldn’t envision what I wanted the community to actually be.

Most of my professional work has focused on education. I speak and train about trauma, domestic violence, strangulation, brain injury, nervous system health, and healing. I spend a lot of time trying to help the people who serve survivors better understand what may have happened inside someone because of what happened to them.

I love that work.

But there has been a question sitting quietly in the back of my mind:

What can I do for the survivors themselves?

Not as a clinician. I’m not one.

Not as someone who has all the answers. I certainly don’t.

But as a survivor who has walked a very long road and learned some things along the way.

What am I supposed to do with that?

I’ve prayed about it.

Today, God answered me with a group of runners.

And Then They Went Back

I was working the event, which meant I had the opportunity to watch people come across the finish line.

I noticed one particular running group.

One by one, their runners finished.

Some were fast.

Some weren’t.

Some were way ahead of others.

Just like life.

But then I noticed something.

The people who finished went back.

They didn’t just stand at the finish line waiting for everyone else to catch up.

They went back out.

They found someone who was still making their way toward the finish and came alongside them.

They walked with them.

They encouraged them.

They crossed the finish line with them.

And then they did it again.

Someone else was still out there?

They went back.

Again.

And again.

Until eventually, the group went back for the final finishers.

And they came across that finish line together.

Nobody was left behind.

I stood there watching them and suddenly thought:

That’s it.

That’s the answer.

That’s what I want The Courageous Survivors Community to become.

Healing Isn’t a Race

Obviously, healing isn’t a race.

There is no finish line where someone hands you a medal and announces that you have officially healed from everything that has ever happened to you.

I actually think healing is much messier than that.

Sometimes you make incredible progress in one area while struggling terribly in another.

Sometimes you run.

Sometimes you walk.

Sometimes you sit down on the side of the road for a while because you’re exhausted.

And sometimes you discover that something you thought you had already worked through still needs some attention.

But what I saw today gave me such a beautiful picture of what community during healing can look like.

Because we’re all at different places.

Somebody has already learned something you’re still trying to figure out.

Someone else has survived something you are currently walking through.

Someone has learned how to set boundaries.

Someone has learned that saying no doesn’t make them selfish.

Someone has finally discovered what safety feels like.

Someone is learning how to regulate their nervous system.

Someone has stopped believing every terrible thing they were taught about themselves.

Someone has learned how to sit in peace after spending a lifetime surviving chaos.

And someone else hasn’t gotten there yet.

So maybe we go back for them.

Not because we’re better.

Not because we’re more healed.

Not because we have all the answers.

We simply know that part of the road.

So we walk beside them for a while.

Sometimes You’re the One Going Back. Sometimes You’re the One Who Needs Someone to Come Back.

This may be the most important part.

I don’t want to build a community where some people are the “healed ones” and everyone else is trying to catch up.

That’s not how this works.

You may be farther down the road than I am in one area and desperately need someone beside you in another.

Today I may go back for you.

Tomorrow, I may need you to come back for me.

Nobody graduates from needing community.

And suddenly, standing at that 5K, I could see the community I’ve been trying to envision.

A survivor says, I’m struggling with this.

And instead of judgment, someone says:

I’ve been there. I’ll walk with you.

Someone says, I’m terrified to set this boundary.

Someone else says:

I remember that feeling. You’re not alone.

Someone says, I don’t understand why my brain or body reacts this way.

And someone farther along in understanding trauma says:

Let me share what helped me finally make sense of mine.

Not fixing.

Not diagnosing.

Not rescuing.

Walking beside.

There is a difference.

They Had No Idea I Was Watching

And this is the part of today’s story that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

Those runners got up this morning and put on their running clothes.

They probably thought they were going to run a 5K.

That’s it.

They had no idea that some random woman working the event was watching them.

They didn’t know I had been praying for direction about a survivor community.

They didn’t know that watching them go back for each other would answer that prayer.

They didn’t know I would take their picture because I wanted to put it on my motivation board.

They didn’t know I would come home and write this blog about them.

They didn’t know that I would be recording a podcast about what they taught me.

They didn’t know that I would make notes about them for the book I’m currently writing.

And they certainly didn’t know that the way they ran their race today would become part of the foundation for how I want to build a community for survivors.

They weren’t trying to influence me.

They weren’t making content.

They weren’t building a brand.

They weren’t trying to go viral.

They were simply showing up for people.

And that changed something in me.

Maybe We’ve Got “Influence” All Wrong

We talk so much about influencers today.

Followers.

Views.

Likes.

Shares.

Reach.

But some of the most influential people I’ve encountered in my life probably have no idea they influenced me.

Today it wasn’t even one person.

It was one group.

One group inspired one person.

And now that one person is writing about them.

Talking about them.

Building something partly because of them.

And hopefully, someday, a survivor who is struggling will be helped by a community that looks a little different because a group of runners decided nobody was finishing alone.

Think about the ripple effect of that.

They may never meet the people they ultimately impact.

That’s influence.

About the God Part

I talk about my faith.

And sometimes people don’t like that.

Some people believe what I believe. Some don’t. That’s okay.

I’m never going to pretend faith isn’t part of my healing journey simply because it makes someone uncomfortable. It has been too significant a part of my story.

But here’s something else I thought about today:

I don’t know what those runners believe.

I don’t know how many of them believe in God.

I don’t know anything about their individual faith.

And they didn’t need to share my beliefs for God to use what they were doing to answer my prayer.

That’s one of the things I love about God.

Sometimes an answer doesn’t arrive looking anything like we expected.

Sometimes it looks like a group of sweaty people at a 5K.

I believe we are called to be a light in this world.

And today I saw that light in people going back for one another.

I saw it in encouragement.

I saw it in community.

I saw it when people who had already crossed the finish line decided their job wasn’t finished because somebody else was still out there.

That’s the kind of light I want to carry into the world.

I Think I Found the Missing Piece

For years, I’ve known part of my purpose.

I want professionals to better understand survivors.

I want people working in healthcare, EMS, advocacy, criminal justice, social services, and other systems to understand trauma and brain injury differently.

I want us to stop looking at people and asking, “What’s wrong with you?”

And start becoming curious about:

“What happened to you—and what might have happened inside you because of it?”

That work isn’t changing.

But today I realized there is another side of this mission.

I don’t only want to help the people who serve survivors.

I want to help survivors find one another.

I want to create a place where we can learn about ourselves.

Where we can understand our brains and bodies.

Where we can talk about healing honestly.

Where nobody has to pretend they’re farther along than they are.

Where we celebrate the person who is running and the person who can only manage one more step.

Where the people who have made it through one part of the journey don’t forget the people who are still in it.

Maybe that’s the missing piece I’ve been praying about.

And maybe the philosophy behind The Courageous Survivors Community can actually be incredibly simple:

We heal at different paces.

We go back for each other.

And nobody gets left behind.

To the running group I watched today: you thought you were running a race.

But you answered a prayer.

You inspired a blog.

You inspired a podcast.

You earned a place on my motivation board and in the notes for a book I’m writing.

Most importantly, you showed one survivor what the community she’s been dreaming about could look like.

You had no idea I was watching.

And maybe that’s the greatest lesson of all.

None of us really knows who’s watching.

We don’t know whose prayer we might be answering.

We don’t know who needs to see someone choose kindness.

We don’t know how far one small act will travel after it leaves us.

So show up.

Encourage people.

Walk beside them.

And when you find yourself a little farther down the road than somebody else…

go back for them. ❤️