by Ann Ferguson

When I was a child, I asked my mom questions. But they weren’t the usual questions you’d expect from a three-year-old. They were the kind of questions even adults struggle to answer.

I have this memory: one morning, I asked her, "How high is up?"
I didn't know much about the world or how it worked, and it was hard for her to give me an answer that would make sense. I remember how long she paused, searching for words. Finally, she said, "Annie, there are some things you get to ask God when you see Him. But I think it’s pretty high."

This morning, I woke up with a new, experiential understanding of how high up really is. To understand "up," you have to understand "down."

When I think about the Law of Polarity, I usually think about the times when I’ve been at my absolute lowest—times I had to summon the tiniest shred of belief that there was an equal and opposite good waiting somewhere.
Some days, I’ll be honest—it’s nearly impossible to believe. Especially when the reality around me shouts that hardship is all there is. Believing in the possibility of good can feel foolish.

I’m well acquainted with the discomfort of living low on the polarity scale. Honestly, I’m really good at living through struggle.

The lowest point of my life was in 2005.
We lived in a tiny, crumbling townhouse in the Washington, D.C. area—2,000 miles away from any family. Money was tight. My husband’s paycheck barely covered the basics, and I was hustling to make ends meet: babysitting during the day, teaching dance at night. Still, most months we ran out of money before the month ended. We were living in constant crisis.

Hard times are survivable when a couple is united. Sadly, we weren’t.
We didn’t function as partners. We barely spoke. When we did, it was quick, defensive, and laced with blame. There was no peace. No partnership. Just two people locked in an endless battle of I'm right, you're wrong.

The house matched the state of our marriage: broken and in disrepair.
For more than six months, no one could even take a shower—only baths—because when the shower was turned on, water poured through the kitchen ceiling.

The car was just as bad. The radiator leaked constantly. I carried a jug of water everywhere and had to pour it in every other trip. If I forgot, the temperature gauge would creep up toward the red, and before long, steam would be billowing out of the engine on the side of the road.

Utilities were shut off every other month. We lived in panic mode, scraping together money just to get the water or power turned back on.
We were immersed in the energy of lack.

The divorce that followed was brutal. The grief was overwhelming.

It was all so confusing. I was doing all the "good and righteous" things. Yet it felt like the Lord just kept pushing, testing to see if I would break.
I wanted to believe there was a high point to match the low, but it was so, so hard.
Everything around me screamed lack.

When my husband moved out, it was just me, five little kids, and all the broken pieces.

Mornings were the worst.

At night, sleep was a reprieve. But every morning, I'd wake up, open my eyes, and reality would come crashing back in.
I'd hang my head and stare at the floor.
Down. That was all I saw.
Up seemed so far beyond me it might as well not exist.

Strangely, I was familiar with the discomfort.
I knew how to live in lack.
There was even a weird, prideful nobility about it—I was a survivor.
I was good at struggle.
I was good at down.
And so, day after day, I pushed through, just trying to make it to bedtime so I could dream again.

Fast forward to 2020.

When I woke up this morning, I slowly became aware of my current reality—and it freaked me out.
Last night, I experienced a new level of "up," and it’s... uncomfortable.
It feels a little too high up. It feels unsafe.
And yet... it’s okay.
Up is okay.

That’s what I keep telling myself: it’s safe to let this be my new normal.

It’s hard to wrap my head around the life I’m living today.
Our finances are stable.
My marriage is healthy.
I’m blessed beyond what I can even understand.

And honestly?
I find myself fighting feelings of unworthiness.
My subconscious is desperately trying to pull my eyes back down again.
But because of the Mindset Mastery program and Leslie Householder’s teachings on the Laws of Thought, I know better now.
I know God delights in blessing me.
I know up is where I'm supposed to be looking.

Up is my destiny.
That's what I'm working on embedding into my subconscious.

This morning, there’s a Porsche 911 sitting in my garage—a car my husband bought last night with my full consent.

Even though I was part of the decision, it still feels uncomfortable.
I’m not afraid of the payments—we can afford it.
And that’s what feels scary.
It hit me today: I’m standing higher on the polarity scale than I ever have before.

And it turns out...
I might have a little fear of heights.

It's fascinating how easy it was to accept struggle as reality—and how strange it feels to accept abundance.

Because the Porsche represents so much more than just a fancy car:

• It represents a functioning partnership and a marriage built on mutual respect.
  Yesterday, when Tom came to me about the car, he approached me with honor and care. We had a real conversation. I voiced my concerns. He listened and showed me the steps he had taken to make sure it was financially safe.
  If I had said no, he would have walked away.
  No drama. No resentment.
  This is the polar opposite of the conflict and competition that defined my past.

• It represents stability and security.
  Tom was 33 when we met—single, no kids—and he bravely stepped into a life with a woman who had five children ages 4 to 15.
  For 13 years, he has provided for us with fierce loyalty—taking side jobs, asking for raises, working crazy overtime—whatever it took to keep the lights on, rent paid, and food on the table.
  He sold his beloved Jeep Wrangler to pay for college tuition, and for 18 months, drove a beat-up Subaru we lovingly called "The Three-Legged Dog."
  That kind of loyalty, sacrifice, and love is the opposite of instability.

• It represents permission to receive the blessings God has for me.
  I’m still doing the "good and righteous" things.
  I’m still serving the Lord and blessing others—and my husband drives a fancy car.
  Both can exist.

Back when I was sitting at the bottom of my polarity scale, I never realized it would feel weird to experience the opposite.

But as I write this, I know this is just the beginning.

There’s more in store for us.
More real wealth.
More abundance—not just in material things, but in relationships, health, and joy.

The Lord’s ability to give is unlimited.
He holds everything in His hands, and His supply never runs out.

The only limit... is me.

"How high is up?"
The Lord is ready to show me.
There is no end to the polar opposite of down.

Up is as high as I am willing to receive.

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